


Lustful Game

by Merci



Category: Tekken
Genre: Drinking Games, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Non Consensual, Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-08
Updated: 2006-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next King of Iron Fist Tournament has been announced, and the fighters are arriving to find that their visit will be paid for in full by a mysterious benefactor.  The catch?  Everyone is paired up with another fighter to be their roommate.  In the end, it’s all a twisted game of manipulation to the one watching it all; the man who is skillfully moving the pieces on the board to satisfy his own voyeuristic desires.  The one, final piece of the puzzle staying just beyond his reach in his lustful game.  Who is rich and perverse) enough to be able to orchestrate something so bizarre?  Will they be stopped, or will they get what's coming to them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Escape (When all you’re given is porn and an angry Korean)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuma_x_seishiro](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fuma_x_seishiro).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Jin, Hwoarang, Devil Jin, Steve, Bryan, or Tekken. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> These stories were written for the pure porn value of them. The first chapter was my first-ever Tekken fanfiction. Kat and I, in one of our late-night chats, were discussing Lee having a porn empire and how he'd make some pornography of the fighters.
> 
> These chapters were originally written as stand-alones, but they've somehow morphed into something more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwoarang travels to the next king of iron fist tournament with one goal in mind; defeat Jin Kazama. He's happy to find that the Mishima corporation is setting the fighters up in a fancy hotel, but what happens when he learns that he's been put in the same room as his rival? Things get a bit more complicated when they find that someone has locked them together in their room with no way out...

The invitations for the next king of iron fist tournament had been sent out, and as before, all the best fighters of the world had come out to compete.  Many were familiar faces mixed with those of a few new hopefuls who had sorely misjudged who they were up against.  Not everybody was there for the large prize that was offered, but it did help to sweeten the deal for some.

"Welcome, Mr. Hwoarang," the hotel receptionist greeted a fiery haired fighter.  "A room has already been prepared for you."

"Hah, I'll bet," the redhead whistled under his breath.  "Seems like old Mishima is going all out for this tournament."  He took the room key card from the woman behind the counter and carried his knapsack over to the elevator.  Pushing the button for the eleventh floor he shifted the weight on his shoulder as he waited for his floor to come up, not really finding the bag heavy, but looking for a more comfortable position anyways.  He hated traveling, and preferred to take as little with him as he could, which was made easier by the fact that he owned very little.

The doors chimed before opening to a lavishly decorated waiting area, complete with six foot mirror and chairs that probably cost more than a month's rent at his apartment.  Had his friends been there, he would have thought of something witty and crass to say about the whole situation; high class accommodations, food and drink all footed by the Mishima corporation.  But as he was alone, he kept his mouth shut, wondering if all the other fighters had been treated so well, but quickly laughed off the idea; who cared, as long as he was in on it.

That smile quickly dropped from his face as the door to his room opened to reveal that there was somebody else already there.  His brown eyes shot open, knapsack dropped to the ground as he immediately took a fighting stance.  The man who'd haunted his dreams and waking thoughts was sitting on the most comfortable looking bed he'd ever seen in his life, looking right at him.

"Jin Kazama…"

+++

The Japanese man was up and catching the Korean's foot mid-air as it flew at him in a rapid succession of powerful kicks.  "Wait!" he said, holding back the urge to hoof the other man in the gut to slow him down.  Eventually Jin got annoyed enough to catch and hold the other man's leg as it flew through the air and throw him over his shoulder and onto the bed.  "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, 'What am I doing?'" The Korean asked, struggling to get up.  "I'm going to kick your ass and prove once and for all that I'm the best fighter."

"That's what the tournament is for…" Jin said, cautiously approaching the other man to see him better.

"Well, I didn't feel like waiting!"  Hwoarang said with a smirk, springing to his feet and once more taking a fighting stance.  "Let's go!"

"No," Jin shook his head and turned his back on the redhead, walking to the bathroom.

"What?  Are you serious?"  Hwoarang rushed to get in the other man's face, but stopped when Jin shot him a look that said he wouldn't humour him.  "Shit, man.  You're no fun!"  He flung himself backwards onto the bed, bouncing before sinking into the thick blankets and king sized mattress.

Jin looked over at him once more before turning to into the bathroom.  He passed by the door to the room that was still wide open with the Korean's knapsack sitting half in the hallway.  He thought to pick it up, but then changed his mind; he wasn't there to pick up after him. 

He stepped onto the cool tiles of the bathroom floor and shut the door behind him, wondering why the Mishima Corporation was giving rooms in such a lavish hotel to the fighters who were competing in the tournament.  Something didn't sit right with him about these arrangements; especially his room mate.  Why place him with a man who was quite obviously out to kick his ass?  No, something was definitely up.  He just couldn't figure out who was pulling the strings, or for what purpose.

+++

Hwoarang quickly lost interest in staring at the ceiling the moment he heard the bathroom door close and flopped over onto his stomach.  The remote control for the television was on the bedside table, and after awkwardly grabbing for it with as little movement as possible, the Korean began flipping through the channels to see if anything was on.

Despite the classy atmosphere of the hotel, the channels still sucked, and Hwoarang was ready to turn the channels off when he decided to quickly look at the pay channels before the quiet, Japanese man got out of the bathroom.

"…hottest girls around!  Non-stop prime adult entertainment with girls like this doing things you'd never imagined!" the announcer enthusiastically continued on, listing the things that the viewer could see, while barely censored images of women and girls flashed across the screen.  It was as hypnotic as a car wreck; not attractive or arousing, but Hwoarang couldn't look away nor could he change the channel from the teasing naked images.

+++

Jin turned the water tap, ending the pleasant shower spray and stepped out onto the fluffy towel he'd laid on the bathroom floor.  In the silent echo of the bathroom he could barely make out the faint sound of a buzzing whirr, but then it was gone and he was left to wonder why he'd been put in the same room as that loud, brash Korean.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and quietly opened the door, the steam from the shower spilling out into the room.  He stepped out onto the soft carpet, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his skin before he looked over to see what Hwoarang was doing to keep himself entertained.  The moment he looked over his eyes met with the red head's and the other man seemed to start at his presence, fumbling with the remote in his hands.  Jin looked at the television to see what he'd been watching and frowned when he was met with a screen full of cleavage.  "What are you doing?" he asked.

The other man recovered quickly, "Just checking out the porn.  I need to see some T&A to help me get through looking at you all night."

"That's expensive.  I'm not splitting the cost of it with you, and I really don't want to see that either," Jin frowned.

"Hey, don't worry!" Hwoarang said, laying back on the bed.  "Everything's paid for!" to emphasize that fact he flipped the channels again, leaving it for a few seconds on every station that was advertising adult entertainment to let the Japanese man see what was available.  "If you won't fight me, then don't bug me when I'm trying to find something to watch."  He made a sound of approval as he stopped on a channel that seemed to catch his attention.

Jin turned from the screen to dig through his bags, looking for some clothes to change into.  Being in the room with that man was unsettling, add that to the fact that he still wasn't sure why the corporation was paying for them to be there, and he knew that he had to get out.  "I'm going out," he said, once he'd changed into some comfortable pants and shirt.  He didn't think the other man would care either way, but it would be rude to just leave without saying a word.

He shouldn't have worried about being rude.

"Good!  I'll be able to beat off in peace, then!"  Hwoarang laughed, clicking the remote to pay for the movie he'd been eyeing.

Jin could feel his face heating up and he quickly turned away to leave, his imagination quickly filling with images of the Korean pleasuring himself.  He shook his head and put his hand on the doorknob to leave.  He'd feel better once he got away from the redhead, but there was one problem that stood in his way.

The doorknob wouldn't turn.

He tried it again, flipping the lock several times to see if it was preventing the lever from turning, but nothing seemed to work.  Just as he was having trouble getting out, his roommate's curses filled the room, along with the passionate sounds from the television that sent a jolt of excitement up the brunette's spine.  Jin turned from the door to see what the problem was.

"What the fuck?!" Hwoarang's voice rose in pitch.  "I didn't want this!"  He was hitting the remote control, trying to change the channel from the one that was now blaring distinctly male sounds through the speakers. 

Jin walked closer to the upset Korean, seeing that the movie that had been selected was missing the promised women, instead featuring two men.  Jin blushed harder and reached out for the remote; he wanted to get that off the screen as fast as possible before he started to show signs of how much he enjoyed the subject matter.  "What did you do?  I thought you liked women?"  He asked, trying to change the channel, or for the love of God, turn it off.

The only thing that seemed to work on the remote was the volume button, and after a few frustrating minutes of increasing and decreasing the sound of grunts and groans Jin threw the remote on the bed, defeated.  He looked to the Korean for ideas.

"Unplug the fucking thing!"  Hwoarang yelled, his own words moving him to action and he sprang forward, scrambling to find the power cord.  Jin could only watch as he tried pulling the television out of the wooden display centre, but everything seemed to be bolted firmly in place and no amount of pulling or pushing would move them.

The string of cursing didn't stop in Korean, and pretty soon Jin had to plug an ear to block out the barrage of profanity while he tried to use the phone to call down to report the problem to the receptionist.  Well, he would have been calling down, if there had been a dial tone.  The receiver was silent and he waved for the other man to shut up so he could listen better.

Hwoarang didn't seem to know the meaning of the gesture, "What the hell?  Tell them we need this fixed right away!  I don't wanna watch this anymore!"  He shifted uncomfortably and turned away, still cursing, but not as loudly as before.

Jin pushed a few buttons on the phone before ducking his head behind the table to make sure it was plugged in.  The lights flashed, but no voice came on the other end.  "I think the phone's broken…" Jin said, suddenly getting a sick feeling.  If the door was locked and they couldn't call for help…

"What?" the redhead sprang off the bed, marching for the door to presumably give someone hell.  "That's it!  I thought this place was great, but if they can't even let me watch naked girls when I want to… the fuck?!"  He pulled harder on the doorknob before putting a foot up against the wall to give himself some leverage.

Jin returned to the bed to watch the other man's wasted efforts.  "We're locked in," he stated flatly over the grunts from the movie.

"Impossible!" Hwoarang started.  "What the hell is going on?"

"Well," Jin started, "We're locked in a room together with a television that will only show gay pornography and we have no way of shutting it off or calling out for help."

The redhead sneered at the Japanese man and marched over to the windows.  "I'm not staying..." he started to announce, but stopped when he found that the windows wouldn't open more than a crack to let air in.

"Face it, someone wants us here and won't let us leave, so we might as well… er, not waste our energy."  Jin averted his eyes as Hwoarang sank to the floor against the foot of the bed.  He'd almost suggested that they enjoy themselves!  He shifted his legs, stretching them out to try and alleviate the growing tightness in his pants.  Even though the two of them were trying to avoid looking at the screen, the noises were still coming through loud and clear and making Jin more aroused than he'd been in months.   "So," he coughed uncomfortably, "Perhaps we should figure out who's behind this?"

+++

Hwoarang spun around to look at the Japanese man who was now shifting to lie on his stomach.  He'd been trying to ignore the other man's presence, but the question reminded him that he wasn't alone.  "Sure, whatever," he half-turned, keeping his legs folded against his chest to hide the bulge that was growing in his pants.  How embarrassing.  He was stuck in a room with Jin watching gay porn with no way out.  It had to be somebody's idea of a sick joke, and when he got his hands on them they'd find out how bad of a joke it was to pull.  "It's probably somebody on your end," he said with a frown.

"Why do you think that?"  Jin asked, propping his chin up on his hand.

"Well, nobody that I've pissed off could get something like this together.  They've gotta have money if they can mess with a place like this."

"Hmm," Jin answered.  "I don't know who would do something this bizarre.  At first I'd thought my grandfather was plotting to get me, but this is far too perverse for his style."

"Great, so we've ruled out your gramps.  That leaves everyone else in the world!"  Hwoarang smacked his head for effect.

"How many other people in the world would want to, or have the means to lock the two of us in a room together and make us watch pornography?"  Jin couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his mouth before he buried his face into his arms.

"Glad you find this so fucking funny, Kazama!"  The redhead barked at him.

"Well, when I say it out loud it just sounds so…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get what you're saying.  So some rich tournament-organizing pervert is after us?  Great, all my questions have been answered.  Thank you, Jin, I can sleep at night."  He shifted again, that had been a lie.  He was too aroused to be able to sleep without relieving himself and if Jin didn't figure out how to get out of there fast…

"I'm surprised that you're not all over this, really," Hwoarang said, deciding to go on the offensive to distract himself from his own personal problem.  "I thought you liked this kinda stuff.  You always struck me as a bit of a-"

"A bit of a what, Hwoarang?"  Jin asked, sitting up and peering down at the other man.  His eyes were dark, intense, angry, and…

"A momma's boy, fag," the Korean said, his anger at his own desire twisting his words into a biting attack.

"Why… would you say that?" Jin asked, his eyes turning cold, inward.  "You have no reason to say that, no reason to fight me.  Why do you look for me at every tournament just to insult me?"

"I got reasons!"  Hwoarang said, feeling the fighting urge burning in his veins and driving him to his feet.  "You just wouldn't understand them!" he turned his back to the Japanese man to look out the window at the city below them.

+++

Jin growled uncharacteristically and climbed off the bed.  He went to stand behind the Korean, the devil inside him urging him to do things he didn't want to do.  He would fight Hwoarang in the tournament; he wouldn't touch him before that.  He wouldn't reach out to feel the other man's red hair, or use it to pull him back and throw him across the bed, but before he could think of how he wouldn't do those things, he'd already done them, and Hwoarang was across the room, busy picking himself off of the floor.

"The fuck?" He yelled, a fire igniting in his eyes and a toothy grin spreading across his face.  "You wanna go now?"

Jin shook his head, balling his fists by his side.  He didn't want to fight; he wasn't in any condition to fight.  He quickly turned his back to the Korean and assumed the other man's position looking out the window at nothing in particular.  At least the sound of blood rushing past his ears was blocking out most of the movie's grunts and groans.

Despite his refusal to fight, he knew that Hwoarang wouldn't accept it.  Jin sighed, they were both on edge because of their situation, although he was sure that he felt it more than the redhead did.  Hwoarang wasn't as affected by the movie as he was, well, he was more vocal of his dislike of it, anyways.  Jin closed his eyes, if he didn't control his actions, he knew he'd do something stupid.  Unfortunately, his control was sorely tested as the Korean rushed up behind him, spinning him around and putting his hands on him.

"The fuck?  Don't tease me, man!" he said, taking a swing at Jin's head. 

The fist was easily side-stepped.  Even without facing him, Jin could sense the other man's movements.  Sense him closing in to grab him by the shoulders to spin him around, and sense the right time to turn and pull Hwoarang closer.  Too close.

The kiss probably took the redhead by surprise, because for a minute Jin was able to kiss him without meeting any protest.  He took full advantage of the opening, hoping that the brief contact would quell the feelings that he'd been having ever since he'd seen the redhead walk into their room.

The surprise, however, was short lived, and Jin found himself being violently pushed away before a fist cracked his jaw and sent him reeling.  He caught himself before he fell and stood, straightening his back as he turned to look at the Korean.  He wasn't the least bit surprised at his reaction.

Jin readied for the inevitable attack.  He knew there was no way that Hwoarang would have responded favourably to his advances, and braced himself for an all-out fight.  He could see that the other man was turning red, his fists balled at his sides and visibly shaking.  Jin licked his lips in anticipation, tasting Hwoarang on his lips.  The thought of the upcoming fight was exciting a part of him that he didn't want to let loose, but at the same time he knew that the red head could take anything he dished out.

This would be fun no matter how it played out.

+++

Hwoarang was frozen in place; so angry he couldn't even move or speak.  The only man who'd beaten him in a fight, the only person he was willing to go to any lengths to beat… had tried kissing him.  Tried?  He had!  Jin Kazama had kissed him… and quite badly at that.  The more he thought about it, the shadow of an idea began to form into a plan in his mind.  He kept his fists clenched at his side, quickly stepping towards the brunette and roughly pushing him back against the wall. 

"Enjoyed that, didn't you?" he bit out through clenched teeth.  He reached up to plant a hand on either side of Jin's head and leaned in close to him.  "Too bad I didn't," he took another step closer, feeling the heat pouring off the other man's body.

Jin looked confused, anxious, and not too sure of what was happening.  It sent a shiver of pleasure up Hwoarang's spine to see his rival like that, and it encouraged him to continue on.  He leaned in, lightly pressing his lips against Jin's, keeping his eyes open to watch as the brunette squirmed under the contact.  It was delicious.

He broke the kiss when the other man's protests became too much and grinned when hands were placed on his chest to push him away.  "The fuck are you doing?" Jin asked, angrily.

"Ohhh, you're going to make me think the world is gonna end if you're using that kinda language, rich boy!"  Hwoarang chuckled and fully pressed his body against the other man's, wedging a knee between his muscled legs.

"Shut up and answer the question," Jin gritted, pressing back against the Korean's hard body.  "Are you just fucking around with me or what?"

"Oh," Hwoarang ground out, "You can bet I'm fucking with you."  That was the last thing he said before he closed the distance between them again, this time his kisses were more aggressive and demanding.  He knew what he was doing, and quickly had Jin at his mercy.  It pushed him further, made him want to do more to see just how much power he could have over this man that was just as strong as him (if not stronger).

+++

Jin groaned inwardly, fighting the urge to completely give in to Hwoarang's kiss.  He didn't trust him, still had no idea who had set them up in that room or locked them in there, and knew that if he gave in that he wouldn't be able to stop himself.  It was getting so much harder to think with that tongue in his mouth.  He felt himself give in a little more when Hwoarang's hip pushed up against his groin, making him breathe deeply, as he reached up to cup the Korean's face in his hands.

That seemed to signal Hwoarang to continue on and his mouth became more insistent on Jin's lips, roughly biting and pulling while his hands pushed the Japanese back against the window and snaked underneath his shirt.  Jin tried to do the same to Hwoarang, but he was less experienced and wasn't as smooth or quick in pushing up the redhead's shirt.  Soon enough his hands were batted away and left to loosely rest on the other man's shoulders while the Korean raked his nails across Jin's chest.  That simple action drew a gasp from him, but he quickly closed his mouth to keep from doing it again.

"Hey," Hwoarang said, pulling his mouth back from Jin a fraction.  Their eyes were still inches apart, looking into each other with naked desire burning between them.  "This doesn't mean anything, alright?  I'm just blowing off a little pre-tournament stress."

Jin nodded, not caring what excuse he made to justify what they were doing.  All he wanted was to feel the other man's hands on him, setting off nerves that he'd never thought existed, and enjoying the rush of being in Hwoarang's arms.  He reached down to pull up the Korean's shirt, this time without the distraction of being kissed to slow him down. 

Hwoarang took the hint and stepped back, pulling his top off in one fluid motion before hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants, pausing to look seriously at the brunette before continuing on, "I'm still going to kick your ass in the tournament."

"I'll let you worry about trying to do that when the time comes," Jin said, getting impatient with the Korean's speeches and posturing.  If he was left to wait any longer he knew the darkness inside him would make him take control… and he really didn't want that to happen.

+++

Hwoarang didn't seem to notice the wording that Jin had chosen; too much blood had left his brain for other places to let him think properly.  He continued pushing his pants down, signaling his acceptance of their understanding that what they were about to do wouldn't change anything between them.

Hwoarang finished slipping his boxers to the floor, while Jin finished doing the same, leaving them to look at each other wearing nothing at all.  "Going commando, eh?" the Korean licked his lips and stepped closer again, this time the skin-on-skin contact elicited a more powerful reaction from the two men.  It was like a magnet that drew them against each other, the energy flowing between them increased with every caress and grunt of appreciation.  Mouths met while hands instinctively roamed over naked flesh, fingernails scratching red marks of desire along muscled arms and torsos.  The Korean slid his body against the hard frame of his rival, relishing the feel of his erection as it became trapped between them.

The embrace continued, each moment hurrying his movements until he was finally grinding against the brunette, turning the other man's small grunts into long, lustful moans that melded in his own breathy groans.

Jin finally broke the kiss, throwing his head back and exposing his neck to the redhead.  Hwoarang didn't miss a beat and latched onto the soft flesh with teeth and lips, sucking at his rival's neck as if not taking advantage of the gesture would be admitting defeat.  He loved the little reactions that Jin made; everything he did had the other man moaning wantonly through clenched teeth, dark eyes shut tightly against anything that wasn't the Korean's doing.

Hwoarang's fingers skipped along Jin's chest, playfully flicking erect nipples before pinching them and letting go only to start the action all over again.  He was quickly losing patience and shot a hand down to grip at Jin's erection, snapping the other man's eyes open to stare into his smirking ones.  "Like that, don't ya, Kazama?" he whispered, getting in close to nip at his jaw line.  "What would your granddaddy think if he saw you right now; about to get fucked by a thug like me?  I'll bet he'd-"

"Shut up," Jin cut him off, teeth bared in the sudden change of mood.  "I don't want to hear it right now!"  He roughly grabbed Hwoarang's cock that was bobbing excitedly between them and squeezed it firmly to get the other man's attention.  "Unless you're going to pretend I'm my grandfather…?"

Hwoarang roughly spun Jin around.  The brunette's grip on the redhead loosened as he was pushed back onto the bed.  Jin didn't have a chance to react before the Korean climbed onto him, pushing a knee between his thighs and settling comfortably between them.  "He's the last person I'm going to be thinking about," he ground out, leaning over Jin and putting a hand on either side of him to get close to his face.  "I'm going to know it's you, because it'll be your voice calling out my name, Kazama!"  He pressed his hips against Jin's, gritting his teeth at the surge of pleasure that spiked from his groin and up his spine. 

The brunette didn't say anything, instead thrusting up to meet Hwoarang's grinding and increased the friction between them.  "Ugh," he ground out.  "If you're going to fuck me, then stop talking about it and do it!"

A fire was burning in Jin's eyes, signaling to Hwoarang to hurry the fuck up, and the Korean didn't need to be told twice.  He sat back on his heels and pushed Jin's legs further apart, pushing his knees up to his chest, effectively spreading the brunette open.  This wasn't how he'd pictured things happening between them, but seeing Jin in that position, Hwoarang took the surge of power that he felt for what it was; victory.

+++

Jin hated the smirk that came over the other man's face when his legs were spread apart.  It was a sobering moment that made him remember everything that had led them up to that point.  His body wanted it so badly, but there was something deeper within him that was picking at the back of his consciousness.  He could feel it both whispering and screaming at the same time, but he didn't know what the hell it was trying to tell him. 

The voice buzzed louder in the back of Jin's mind as Hwoarang nestled between his legs, the hum pushing his consciousness aside and before Jin knew what he was doing, he'd reached up with lightening speed to take the other man by the neck, pulling him down.

In a second he'd pulled the redhead by the throat until their faces were inches apart.  Hwoarang sputtered a bit, he stopped moving against Jin and was trapped in the gaze of those fiery black eyes that seemed like they belonged to a different person.  "Jin?" he asked, forcing the question past the iron grip around his neck. 

The fire wavered at the name and Jin's senses snapped open to the reality of the moment and he immediately loosened his grip when he realized what he'd done.  Hwoarang was looking strangely at him, but he didn't want to have to explain himself.  Not then, at least.  It was too much hassle, and what he really wanted was to continue what they'd been doing before the darkness inside him had taken over.  He opened his mouth, trying to think of some excuse or lie that would sound plausible, but changed his mind and kissed the man above him instead.

Hwoarang resisted at first, his lust undoubtedly lessened by Jin's previous actions, but that uncertainty quickly passed and in no time he was responding to Jin's kisses with increased fervor, quickly regaining his dominance over the other man's mouth.

Jin moved his hands down to the Korean's chest, roughly pinching the hard nipples and pulling them until he got a response for the action.  Hwoarang rested his body into Jin's, sliding their erections together and trapping the straining flesh between their muscled frames.

Jin grunted, breaking the kiss and gasping for breath; the feel of Hwoarang against him increased his lust, leaving his mind only the ability to feel the pleasure he was experiencing.  He looked up to see a similar emotion reflected in the Korean's eyes, heavily lidded with desire.  Jin pulled his knees up higher, lifting his ass into the air to give the other fighter the unspoken invitation to proceed.

+++

Hwoarang grinned again, only any bravado it might have held was erased by the longing desire that turned it into a lopsided grunt.  He slithered down the Japanese man's body, the time for foreplay was over and he didn't bother to caress or touch any other part of Jin's body except for that puckering entrance that was eagerly clenching before him.

His initial urge was to sit back and drive his aching dick into his rival, but memories of deflowering virgins stopped his actions cold.  He'd had more than one woman moaning in pain as he'd taken their virginity, and while he wanted to defeat Jin, he had no desire to hurt him in such a fashion.  He wasn't sure how to make it easier for him.

He experimentally pressed a finger against Jin's puckered hole, gently at first, but slowly pushing it inside, and noticing how it tightened around his intrusive digit.  The thought of what it would feel like around his cock sent a rush of excitement through him, and he pushed further, hoping to prepare the other man quickly so he could get on with it.

In and out, in and out he pushed his finger, the muscles tightening around him and some encouraging sounds coming from Jin's lips.  He spat on his finger to make it easier to push a second finger into his rival, scissoring them apart to open the brunette up further.  Any arrogant satisfaction that he might have felt at hearing Jin's moan was absent.  The sound the other man made cut through him, traveling straight to his groin, and making him falter in his preparations.  Hurriedly he pushed a third finger inside, vowing that after Jin's ass adjusted that it'd be his dick that he was pushing into the constricting passage. 

The movement of his hand became erratic, jabbing and spreading and bending and grinding and all the things that made Jin's breathy moans more demanding and Hwoarang's eyes glaze over as he blindly spit again onto the loosening entrance.  Finally, he pulled out, sitting back on his haunches and spreading saliva onto his hand to wipe across his own cock.  He resisted the driving urge to just start jerking off and forget about Jin altogether; as nice as it was to spread the make-shift lube along his straining erection, he knew it would be even nicer to spread Jin's ass with it instead.  He coated his throbbing head with saliva, mixing it with the precum that glistened at the tip, wiping it lower to glisten along his shaft.

From the corner of his eye he saw Jin trembling with the strain of holding his position; hands gripping his legs to hold them apart, eyes staring blindly at Hwoarang while his own ignored cock leaked across his navel.  Hwoarang reached over to touch the brunette's precum that was pooling on his stomach, dipping his fingers in the liquid and smearing it across his rival's belly.  "Guh, what are you doing?" Jin finally asked.  "I'm not going to beg, if that's what you're thinking…"

"No," Hwoarang said, gathering up the liquid and spreading it across his cock to add to the saliva he'd already spread there.  "I'm just making sure I've got your attention before I fuck ya into the mattress."  He positioned himself between Jin's legs, eagerly pressing his cock against the other man's entrance and leaning over him as he eased inside.

Immediately he felt Jin clamp down onto him, but that just made him push in harder.  Jin let go of his legs, letting them rest against Hwoarang's shoulders while he fisted his hands into the bed sheets beneath them, his mouth opened in a pained gasp while his eyes shut tightly.

Hwoarang couldn't stop himself until he'd filled Jin to the hilt, his hips pressing against the backs of the other man's thighs before he could halt his movements.  He waited, biting his lip to resist the insane urge to pull out and push back into that delicious velvety heat that was clenching around his dick.  The friction of entering the tight entrance was unbelievable, and it was more instinct than thought that begged him to do it over and over again.

But he didn't.

Jin had reached up to rest a hand on his arm, silently asking him to wait for him to get used to the sensation.  So Hwoarang waited, fighting his own instincts until the brunette was ready as well. 

It felt like forever, the greatest test of his resolve to stay there like that.  Any exercise that Baek had ever given him could not compare to those few moments.  He clenched his jaw while his muscles began to shake and twitch from the strain.  He held his breath, blindly looking down at Jin, until he felt the tightness around his cock lessen, and the other man opened his eyes to nod at him, a tiny grunt sounding the green light to let the Korean move again.

He held his breath, carefully pulling out until he felt the head of his cock meet the resistance of the tight ring of muscle at Jin's entrance.  He then pushed in again, carefully moving downwards until he could go no further and began the movement to pull back.

It was so slow.  So painfully slow, but at the same time the most delicious sensation he'd ever experienced.  No woman was like this.  No female had ever made him feel the utter carnal desire that he was experiencing at that moment.

Jin reached up to touch his arm again, but this time it was not a request to stop.  "I won't break, you know…" he said.

"Yeah?" Hwoarang panted, pushing in and looming over the brunette's flushed face.  "A few moments ago-"

"Fuck me harder!" Jin cut him off, reaching up to pull Hwoarang down against him.

"Guh," Hwoarang puffed.  "Kazama…" he warned, regaining his position above Jin before laughing.  He thrust harder into the other man; pulling out less, but driving his cock deeper into the welcoming entrance, audibly smacking his hips against Jin's thighs.  It was as if he was a wild dog that had been chained up, and someone had broken the links and let him loose.  He lost himself in the act, grunting and thrusting and driving his desire home into Jin's body, his rival's moans washing over his ears to heighten the power behind his movements.

Their bodies were buzzing with the adrenalin that coursed through their veins, each man steadily climbing to the precipice of their own release.  Each movement brought the other closer and closer, faster and faster, more desperately clinging to each other, each wildly thrusting downwards and upwards until Hwoarang could feel his groin tightening, signaling the start of his release.  He gasped and panted against Jin's neck, screaming in Korean as his orgasm overcame him and he shook violently as he spilled his seed within his rival.

Jin's release was less audible, but no less powerful; his short gasps and squeaks reached their crescendo before diving into a gasping moan that reverberated from deep within his chest.  His body shook, clamping around the cock within him and spreading up to his pulsing shaft that spilled his release across his belly.

+

Hwoarang collapsed onto Jin, his muscles finally giving out and his sweaty body fell against the equally spent man beneath him.  He stayed imbedded in the quivering passage until he began to soften and he pulled himself free, shifting his weight to the side so that he lay beside the other man on the soft, king size bed.

They both lay there for a long moment, each staring blankly up at the ceiling, neither having enough strength, or perhaps it was courage, to look over at the other.

Finally, Hwoarang inhaled deeply and puffed it out, exhaling the only word on his mind, "Fuck."

Jin made a sound of agreement.

"Want a smoke?" the redhead offered, rolling off the bed to stumble over to his bag.

"No," Jin said, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as the other man dug a pack out of his bag and put one of the long, white cylinders to his lips.  "I didn't know you smoked," he said flatly.

"I don't," was the reply, "But that was too fucking great, so I'm making an exception.  You sure you don't want one?"  He took another cigarette from of the pack and held it out, but Jin shook his head again.  "Suit yourself," Hwoarang said, inhaling the first puff of smoke and throwing the box onto the table.

Hwoarang pulled on his boxers, leaving his cigarette hanging from his lips and making him look every bit like the delinquent he was.  Jin rolled out of bed and began the process of pulling his clothes on.

Once both of them were finished, there was that silence.  "So," Jin said after a minute of nothing.  Hwoarang wouldn't look at him, and he didn't know what the proper thing to do in that situation.  So he tactfully changed the subject, "Look, the porn is off."

That snapped the Korean's head around and he nearly dropped his smoke.  "The fuck, you're right!"  The screen had gone blank, although neither of them had noticed when it had happened. 

"Someone is definitely behind this," Jin said, standing beside Hwoarang as they both stared dumbly at the powerless television.

A loud knock made them both jump, and they spun around to stare at the door.  Hwoarang turned to give Jin a suspicious look, inclining his head toward the door and arching an eyebrow.  The brunette nodded and in unison they took careful steps towards the door.

Hwoarang stood with his back to the wall beside the door, Jin took the other side and they silently looked to each other to get an idea of what to do next.  Without guns neither of them could do much, so Hwoarang took a last puff from his cigarette before butting it out on the wall beside him and bellowed, "Who the fuck is it?!"

Jin rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hand.  "What's the point in being quiet if you're going to yell at them?"

"'Rang?  Open up, man!" the voice came from the other side.  "It's me!"

"Steve?" the Korean asked, quirking an eyebrow before cursing and opening the door.

The door opened to reveal the Brit grinning at them from the hallway, leaning against the frame to talk to them more casually.  "Man, aren't these digs the best?  Old Mishima isn't being a cheapskate like the last tournaments, huh?"

Hwoarang leaned against the door, "Yeah, they're pretty sweet man."

"What are you doing locked in your hotel room?  Let's go out and get some pre-tournament training in!  Not that it'll help you win, but I wanted to show off my moves!"  He leapt back and punched at the air a few times to show the two men what he meant, as if they hadn't seen him fight before.

Hwoarang looked at Jin who shrugged his shoulders indifferently.  "You two go and have fun, then," he said, turning his back to them.

"Jin, why don't you join us?" Steve said, barging past Hwoarang into the room.  "You should see the babes hanging out in the lounge here.  They're all hot for the fighters!"

Jin stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Steve.  He'd never been invited anywhere before to just hang out and he wasn't sure if it was a cruel joke or if it came from sincerity.

"Yeah, he'll come with us," Hwoarang cut in, playfully pushing Steve out of the way.  "Just let me get dressed and we're there.  I've got a couple moves myself to show you that'll kick your ass!"  He pulled on his pants from where he'd dropped them and dug through his bag to find a shirt.

Jin watched Steve as he Brit exchanged friendly insults with Hwoarang.  For a second he'd thought that the blond had been the one who'd set them up, but that idea had been dismissed before he'd fully formed it in his mind.  The boxer had no reason or means to control the television or locking mechanism for the doors like that.  No, it was someone else at the tournament.  "Who are you rooming with?" he asked Steve, breaking the air of cursing and promises of ass kicking between the two other fighters.

"Ah, they got me with some American guy.  He's kinda creepy, so I'm going to try and spend as much time away from there as possible.  That man is covered in scars."

"Aww, some little fighter got ya scared, Fox?"  Hwoarang taunted, stepping away from the fist that flew for him.

"Shut up, 'Rang!  I might need to crash with you guys, so be nice or I won't let you sleep, ass!" He took another swing, connecting with the Korean's shoulder and making the other man curse in pain.

"Fuck, stop that!  So, are we going or what?" Hwoarang led the way out of the room, letting Steve and Jin look at each other before following his lead.

Jin turned back to the room, suspiciously looking for a last sign of who was behind their experience before he was dragged away.  Nothing stood out to him and he sighed inwardly, quickly grabbing the keycard from the table and closing the door behind him.  Whoever had locked them in there would try something again.  This wasn't over.  He put the idea from his mind and followed the other two fighters down the hall, leaving the room behind and the whirring cameras that were hidden within the walls. 

The high-tech lenses buzzed as they adjusted to record the now-empty room, the images of everything that had happened already recorded and wirelessly sent to another room deep within the hotel complex.  Everything had been recorded and shown over a large wall-sized screen, witnessed by the man who'd orchestrated the event and others like it.  It was only the tip of the iceberg for a series of similar events, and if all went well, it would lead him closer to his goal.

Boredom was truly a dangerous thing when experienced by those with money and power.


	2. Primal Drive (How to unsuccessfully run away from a cyborg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryan Fury and Steve Fox are two men who share very little, if anything in common.  Despite this, however, they are set up as roommates when they arrive for the latest King of Iron Fist Tournament.  Steve plans to spend the tournament as far away from his cybernetic roommate as possible, but after Bryan receives some mysterious ‘upgrades’ from a nameless benefactor, he finds that the older man has taken an unhealthy interest in him.  An interest, he discovers, that does not stem from a desire to fight, but an even more primal instinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, can’t say I’ve seen much of this pairing around, and yet these two characters are my friend, Mchan’s, favourites to talk about.  Again, the mysterious man sets Bryan and Steve up for some porn fun.  The voyeuristic little pervert sure does like watching the fighters get it on, eh? 

Bryan Fury arrived to the King of Iron Fist tournament late in the evening.  His cybernetic body was stiff from the long flight and he’d barely registered any surprise when he arrived at the hotel and was informed that he could stay there for free.  It seemed that someone high up in the tournament organization had arranged for all the fighters to have nice rooms at the official hotel.  It did seem a bit strange to him that he had to share a room, but then again, so-long as his roommate didn’t talk to him, what did he care?

So it came that the cybernetic American was in his room and, wanting for something constructive to do, was deeply engrossed in training.  The room wasn’t large enough for such activities to begin with, but pushing the beds to one side made more than enough room for the burly man to practice his kicks, punches, and maniacal laughing.  The latter, of course, was the most important.  An opponent would be thrown off if they believed he was insane, and it was the laugh that solidified that fact in their minds.  Only the truly strong could withstand the urge to run away.

It also helped that he really was a bit crazy.  Not much, but being power-hungry enough to have most of your body altered with cybernetics and alternative power-sources would need one to be a bit off their rocker.

Bryan was still training when the door to their room opened and his roommate stood in the frame, peering into the darkness.  He didn’t stop his training, and let loose a particularly effective laugh as the newcomer took two steps into the room.  The American turned his blue eyes to take in the sight, and just as quickly turned away.  A blonde, British boxer named Steve Fox regarded him from the entrance of the room.  Bryan had fought against him in a previous tournament and knew he was not someone to mess with… not that Bryan would refrain from picking a fight or two with the boxer before the tournament regardless.

The blonde stood there for a few minutes, although Bryan didn’t bother to look to see what the other man was doing.  He had to get all his systems and circuits into top shape before he really took anybody on in a fight.

“Y-you’re…” Steve started, hand hanging in the air as it pointed towards Bryan.

The cyborg stopped his training once he realized that no more words were coming and he’d have to encourage conversation.  He grumbled unhappily at the idea.  “I’m what?” he turned to face the boxer, putting his hands on his hips to show he would be impatient about the entire encounter.

“You’re naked!”  Steve snapped out of his shock and turned his head away while squeezing his eyes as tightly shut as he could.  “Why the bugger are you training naked?”

“Clothes get in my way,” Bryan sniffed.  “You wanna fight?”

The older man took a step forward, assuming a proper fighting stance.  Steve dropped his bag and put up his fists, “God, no!” he yelled, trying desperately to stare Bryan in the eyes.  The American chuckled when he saw the Brit’s gaze trailing across his scarred, muscular body.  “That is,” the younger man continued, “I’m tired from my flight… I-I’m going to the pub.”  He quickly spun on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the older man alone to continue his exercises.  Bryan let out a hearty laugh to trail after Steve down the hallway, a sound that would, with any luck, plant itself into the root of the boxer’s subconscious and come out during their match at the tournament the following day.

He began training again, lunging and squat-thrusting and doing whatever he could in the spacious room before he was again interrupted, this time by the offensive ringing of the telephone.  He glared at the device, never slowing his exercises and waited for it to stop ringing.  Whoever it was would eventually get tired and hang up.  Bryan Fury had an iron will when it came to endurance, and this was not one battle that he’d give up easily.  He pushed his exhausted muscles to their limits, his breath increasing while his circuits began to feel warm from over-use and still the phone rang.  Each ring of the bell sent a tick to the side of Bryan’s eye, irritating him and making him lose count of his push-ups.  He looked up at the device for a moment, glaring daggers before cursing and finally reaching for it, gripping the receiver until the plastic threatened to crack as he put it to his ear.  He vowed angrily into the mouthpiece that if it was someone from the hotel calling to ask him if he wanted pancakes in the morning someone was going to die.  The voice on the other end was patiently quiet until the American had exhausted his vocabulary of threats and calmly asked if the cyborg was interested in receiving some free upgrades to his system.  The lightly accented voice was breezy, calm, and definitely in control, offering up something that it knew the American couldn’t turn away from.

That offer shut Bryan right up and he grumbled, drumming his fingers along the table while suspiciously trying to think of anybody who the voice might belong to.  Who knew he’d be at the tournament?  Dr. Abel, the man who’d originally implanted his body with cybernetics, was probably dead by then, and the only other doctor who’d helped him, Dr. Boskonovitch probably wouldn’t care either way if he needed upgrades.  The man on the phone sounded younger than either of the old and feeble doctors.  It conveyed strength and it bothered Bryan to have no idea who it was.  After a moment of deliberation, nearly telling the man on the phone to go fuck himself, he agreed to the offer.  He’d decided that if it was for real, then he couldn’t afford to pass it up.  Upgrades for his system were hard to come by, if not impossible to find.  He comforted his suspicions by promising that if it was a trap, he’d simply kill whoever was responsible.

The voice made a sound of approval before giving Bryan instructions to go to the hotel lounge and wait for a contact to find him.  Before the American could say another word, the line went dead.

+++

A few heads turned as Bryan Fury walked into the hotel lounge, some with undisguised lust, while others with passing interest.  He wasn’t the type of man you’d see every day.  Tall, muscular, imposing, pale, all the things that drew your eye to a person, making you look them over for a second longer before looking away.  He stood in the entrance, his frame blocking the way as he scanned the room for someone who might be expecting him.  Aside from a few inviting smiles from some of the lonely women and men in the bar, he didn’t see anyone who might have what he was looking for.  He strode over to an empty table and sat down, deciding to make himself visible to everyone there while he waited and was immediately met by a waitress who brought over a drink from a young woman at the bar.  Bryan took the drink and tossed it back; gulping the liquid down and slamming the glass back down on the table without even looking at the brunette who’d bought it for him.  A few other drinks arrived and were treated in the same way, which seemed to encourage some people who perhaps thought that Bryan was the perfect challenge.

Bryan arched a thin, white brow as the chair opposite him was pulled out and a thin man in a black suit sat opposite him.  The stranger’s eyes were framed by thin-rimmed glasses, brown eyes wide and smiling, almost gleeful.  They were getting bolder, it seemed.  And this one thought he’d get somewhere with him.

The man placed a glass on the table and pushed it towards Bryan.  “Not interested,” the fighter said, grabbing the glass and turning away from the man.  Body language always helped to tell people to fuck off as efficiently as words.

“Oh?” the man in black asked, “I’m surprised to hear this.  You sounded more inclined to my offer on the phone.”  He smirked irritatingly when Bryan turned back to him again.  The American arched a brow and the man took it as his queue to continue, pressing the glass to his lips and taking a drink.  “My employer is aware of your desire to enhance your body through cybernetic means.  He has spent a great deal of money in locating the doctors who are familiar with your unique physiology and capable of pushing it to its full potential.”

Bryan scowled while the man went on to explain the details of his proposal, all the while trying to figure out what the catch was.  Things that sounded this good usually had some hideous price to pay for them, as he’d learned back when he’d been a cop.  “So who is your employer?” he asked, breaking into the man in black’s enthusiastic explanation of some technical aspects that he couldn’t give two shits about.  “You don’t sound like the guy on the phone.  What’s the catch?”

“Oh, no catch at all,” the stranger said.  “Well, nothing that you’d notice or care about.  Increasing your size and stamina could only help you in this tournament.”

Bryan snorted, loudly setting his glass down on the table before folding his arms over his chest.  “I want to meet your employer first.  I’ll decide if it’s a good deal.”

The man smiled happily, strangely unfazed by the rude statement and pushed his chair back, standing and walking out of the lounge, indicating that the American should follow him.

He walked down a long hallway towards an elevator, pressing the down button and waiting patiently for the car to arrive.  The man didn’t say another word to Bryan, nor did he even look at the fighter.  It was as if he’d done his part and didn’t have anything else to say, which was fine by Bryan.  The gleeful way that he talked about the surgery was irritating and the American didn’t want to have to listen to so much cheer so late in the day.  The doors chimed and the two men walked into the car.  Bryan was dimly aware of the man’s thin finger reaching out to push the down button before his vision went black and he lost consciousness.

+++

The man in black let the burly kickboxer fall to the ground in a heap and calmly pulled a cell phone from his breast pocket.  The doors chimed open and two women dressed in tight nurse uniforms walked in to pick up Bryan’s limp body and lift it onto a gurney that was positioned just beyond the doors.  The man in black ignored them, flicking his phone open and dialing a number.  The doors closed behind the nurses as the phone rang once before being answered.  “Sir?  Bryan Fury has agreed to the surgery.”

+++

Steve stumbled for the fifth time while trying to help Jin carry Hwoarang out of the bar.  “Damn, quit dragging your feet and carry your own weight, ya bugger!”  Steve grumbled once the night air finally filled his lungs and he felt a little more sober than his previous state of completely sloshed out of his mind.

Jin was characteristically quiet, but with a heavy red blush across his features the betrayed his inebriated state.  How the other men had convinced him to drink so much was still a mystery to him, but he hazily remembered it was a mix of peer pressure and a lot of irritating banter from the Korean.  He tightened his grip on the other man’s waist and leaned so that Hwoarang’s body was resting heavily along his.  Hwoarang seemed to take it as his queue to lean in the opposite direction, pulling Jin off balance and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground.

“Jin’s sho drunk he can’t walk!” Hwoarang threw his head back and laughed loudly, doing little to try and pull himself to his feet.  Steve had agilely escaped being pulled down and stood above the pair of fighters who were sprawled across the sidewalk.  He offered a hand to the less-drunk of the two, it was accepted and he pulled Jin to his feet before turning to the red head.  “Looks like someone had a bit too much to drink, eh, Jin?”  He nudged the Japanese man in the ribs and prodded a nod of agreement out of their silent companion.

“What?”  Hwoarang was on his feet in an instant, face nearly as red as his hair.  “I’m not drunk!  I can barely feel this!”  he grabbed Steve by his shirt and began insisting on his sobriety an inch from the boxer’s face.  “I only had a few drinks, man.  I’m totally cool to go another… FIVE rounds!  Yeah!  Where is the next bar, anyways?  I’ve got a score to settle with you, Fox!”

“No.  We’re going back to our room,” Jin said, uneasy with how Hwoarang was swaying towards Steve. 

“What?” Hwoarang shouted, turning towards Jin, losing his balance and falling into him.  His weight sent the two of them tumbling backwards against the brick wall of a shop.  The Korean leaned heavily against the brunette, trying to push away to look into Jin’s eyes, but having little success.  “I’m perfectly fine,” he finally said, his face resting against Jin’s shoulder.  “Just help me stand upright and I can walk all by myself.”

“He’s in denial,” Steve laughed at the pair.  “Man, you can’t hold your liquor worth shit.  How about you drink before our fight tomorrow?  I wouldn’t mind the help in knocking you on your ass.  Not that I needed much help to begin with,” he added.

“You’re drunk too,” Jin said as the boxer stumbled twice before bracing himself against a street light for balance.

“Of course I am,” Steve said.  “So are you!  We’re all drunk!”

“I’m not!”  Hwoarang insisted, yet still unable to stand on his own two feet to prove it.

“Well,” Steve said, looking from Hwoarang to Jin.  “This might be it for tonight…”

Jin looked relieved at the suggestion.  “Yeah, I need to get some sleep before tomorrow-!” he started as Hwoarang began laughing and Steve could see that the Korean was reaching behind him to touch him in an overly familiar way.

“Looks like Hwo’s gonna fight you on that,” the Brit said, feeling the hazy weight of all the liquor he’d drunk suddenly hitting him all at once.  He yawned.

Jin found the articulation to push the red head away from him and with Steve’s help the trio walked down the street to their hotel.  It may have only been a few blocks away, but for three drunken men, it was as great a challenge to their resolve as the most skilled opponent.

Hwoarang seemed to sober up on the trip and was able to carry his own weight as they walked into the hotel.  Jin was laughing at the redhead as they waited for the elevator, and it seemed like the first time the Japanese man had ever made that sound.  It seemed as if the alcohol was finally getting to the brunette and was turning him into a silly drunk, a stark contrast to his usual, quiet self.  Steve had become strangely contemplative, and watched as his friends smacked each other around a bit before the doors chimed and opened.  Jin rushed in first, pushing a bunch of buttons before Hwoarang stepped in after him.

“Kazama!  The fuck you doing?” he smacked the brunette’s hand away from the controls.

Jin’s smile fell and his expression became deadly serious.  It was as if the merry mood a few moments earlier had vanished and was replaced with a deadly, serious air.  There was fire dancing in Jin’s eyes as he glared at Hwoarang who matched his glare.

It was a stare off, and Steve backed against the far corner of the elevator, not really wanting to become involved, but still morbidly curious to see what would happen.  Finally Hwoarang’s eye twitched and Jin smirked, reaching up to the control panel and pushing another button.

“Checkmate!” he announced, launching himself at Hwoarang and planting his shoulder into the other fighter’s chest.

The redhead was caught unaware and fell back into the glass wall.  “Fuck you, Kazama!” he yelled, trying to get his rival off of him.

“Hey,” Steve had to break into the fight as the elevator chimed their floor and the doors opened.  It was his last chance to get in with them.  “Can I crash with you guys tonight?  My roommate is a freak.”

Hwoarang pried Jin away from him and shook his head.  “No way, man.  I’m gonna have to look at this guy’s face all night,” he said, pushing Jin for no other reason than he could.  “I don’t wanna have your feet poking me in the back, nasty toenails scratching me up!”

“But Hwo, c’mon!  I’m telling you, this bugger is creepy.  When he laughs, it’s like he’s about to eat a basket of kittens or something!”

“Tough shit, Fox.  I’m not in the mood.  What’s the matter?  Big, bad boxer afraid of one little fighter?”

“Shut up, wanker,” Steve said, half-heartedly smacking the Korean.  “If you two lovebirds just want some time to yourselves, all you had to do was say so!”

“Damn right!”  Hwoarang laughed, throwing an arm around Jin and pulling the startled brunette out of the elevator with him.  “I’m gonna fuck Kazama into the mattress again and I don’t want you watching!”

The blonde laughed, not too sure if the Korean was being serious or not, but decided that it was the redhead’s way of saying ‘no fucking way’ so he sighed and pushed the button for his floor.  It was inevitable that he’d have to go back, and prayed that Bryan was either out, or already asleep.

+++

The anxiety that Steve Fox was feeling did a fairly good job of sobering him up.  The thought that Bryan was waiting for him at the room set him on edge and he hoped that it wasn’t the case.  His balance was still a bit off from the booze and he wasn’t at his best at that moment.  He slipped his card into the lock on the door, turning the handle as slowly and quietly as he could.  He walked lightly into the room, ready to dodge anything that the crazy American would have to throw at him.  He let out a sigh of relief when he found that the room was empty.  “Th’ fucker buggered off then?” he asked no one in particular, flicking on the light switch.

As he did so, the flickering light illuminated the hulking form of Bryan Fury in the doorframe behind him.  Steve started, cursed under his breath, and then half-turned his body from the other man.  The cyborg walked into the room with a set determination that bothered the Brit.  He’d fought Bryan before at a previous tournament, and he had the same fighting air about him then; whether or not Steve wanted to, he’d have to fight.  He instinctively scanned the room for escape routes, but quickly discovered that the only way out was the door that was now on the other side of the American.  Steve abandoned his plan of escape and raised his fists just as Bryan sped his approach.  His feet moved quickly, carrying him out of range of Bryan’s jab before it was followed up with a powerful right cross.

“What do you want?”  Steve asked, throwing out a couple punches himself, but decidedly staying on the defensive.  “I don’t want to fight you until the tournament, so you can bloody well back off!”

A strange look came over Bryan at the words, but a smirk appeared on his face and he took another step to close the distance between them.  “I just got some new upgrades… and I wanna try them out.”

Steve cursed, dodging an array of fists that flew at him in succession, barely avoiding the last one that nicked his cheek.  He clenched his fists and wished he hadn’t drunk so much at the bar.  He wouldn’t have if he’d known that he’d be fighting right afterwards… well, seriously fighting.  He could feel his balance was off and he knew he needed a way out.  Time to talk.  “Not in the mood there, man,” he dodged a fist.  “I think I saw a few of your countrymen in the bar down the street.  Maybe they’re up for a good brawl.”  The American didn’t react to what Steve said, instead taking another step closer and throwing out a kick at the boxer’s midsection.

The blonde blocked at the last minute and threw out a couple punches of his own.  One was caught mid-air, the other drove past the cyborg’s defenses and cracked the older man’s jaw upwards.  He felt a brief wave of satisfaction wash over him, but that was short-lived when Bryan’s fist moved faster than he could see and planted itself firmly in his ribs.

Steve doubled over, clutching at his bruised side and staggered backwards.  Bryan stalked after him, a mask of seriousness drawing his features into an unreadable mask.  With a swift movement the cyborg pushed him up against the wall, taking a firm hold of Steve’s wrists and holding him in place.  “The hell?  Let me go!” Steve twisted, ignoring his ribs and the pain that shot up his side.  He struggled until his wrists began to hurt and he finally relented, narrowing his eyes at the man who held him in place.  “Nice upgrades, fucker,” he said sarcastically.  Bryan smirked and leaned in closer, the light in the room illuminating the raw desire that shone in the American’s ice-blue eyes and Steve instinctively began to struggle again, a surge of panic rising in his chest.  “Uh, Fury, what are you doing?”

“Testing my new upgrades,” he said, his expression remaining that mask of determined lust.  The look that did not waver even as Steve struck out at the cyborg with the only thing he had free, his forehead.  He slammed it forward, knocking Bryan’s cheek, but otherwise not having any affect on older man’s advances in the least.

“Shit,” Steve cursed.  “Git th’ fuck offa me!”  A rough hand went straight for the soft bulge in the Brit’s pants, causing his eyes to widen in surprise and revulsion.  He gave a final struggle and the older man’s mouth descended on his.  It was rough, straight to the point and erratic, just like Bryan.  His tongue would be lapping one second, and then his teeth would bite on Steve’s lip the next.

The blonde knew it was his last shot to get away before things got any more serious than they already were.  He sucked Bryan’s lip into his mouth, wrinkling his nose as he suckled on the soft flesh.  It seemed to spur the American on in his movements, his grip loosening a fraction, and it was all Steve had to work with as he bit down on Bryan’s mouth with all his strength.  He kept biting harder and harder until he tasted the coppery blood on his tongue, felt it sliding down his throat and his strength was renewed to twist free and knock the older man backwards.

He’d never been one to run from a fight, but he comforted his ego by reminding himself that it wasn’t a fight he was running from as he tore out of the room.  It was something far, far worse.

The hallway was deserted, the late hour suddenly very apparent to Steve as he ran down the long, empty corridor, his feet making little noise on the soft carpet.  Thoughts of what to do flew through his mind.  Hwoarang and Jin might have been able to help him, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask them for the favour.  He knew the red-headed Korean would never let him live it down.  He almost preferred having Bryan catch him over Hwoarang knowing what was happening.  Getting help from anywhere else would be a bad idea as well.  If he couldn’t stop Bryan, then hotel security definitely wouldn’t be able to stop a cybernetic kickboxer in heat.

He ran full-tilt up to the elevator, hitting both the up and down buttons repeatedly.  He’d take it anywhere; up or down.  He didn’t care.  His heart was pounding in his ears and he peered down the corridor, just waiting for the American to come storming after him while he waited for the doors to open.  He couldn’t see Bryan, but that didn’t make him feel any better.  In fact, he felt worse.  He cursed, noticing that the elevator doors hadn’t opened yet.  “Bloody lift!” he swore and punched the thick, metal doors.  He angrily looked up at the lights above the door in time to see the second floor light up and then stop.  It was taking forever!  He moaned, frustrated, and tore off further down the hall.

At the last minute he saw the heavy, metal doors that led to the stairs and he changed direction mid-stride, bursting through the doors and into the stairwell beyond.  The cavernous passage was cold, poorly lit, and strangely quiet.  Steve wondered why he didn’t hear any security alarms blaring after he’d opened the door, but it was a fleeting thought and not something that was overly important to him at that moment.  He rushed down the stairs, his heart racing as he heard the door slam behind him which signaled that Bryan was hot on his tail.

His feet thudded onto the landing of the second floor, his breathing erratic with panic and exhaustion.  He pushed through the door to get out onto the level and find a place to hide.  If he could just find a place where Bryan wouldn’t look…

He stopped himself.  Hide?  Was he some coward that hid at the first sign of a fight he wasn’t sure he could win?  He’d fought men like Bryan in worse situations.  Was this any different?  He shook his head, embarrassed that he’d let his panic at the situation drive him to run away.  He’d make a stand, but the hallways in the hotel weren’t big enough to properly brawl in.  If he let Bryan catch him there, innocent bystanders would get involved.

He scanned the corridor, looking for another place to go.  He needed to find a place where nobody would come upon them.  He might lose the fight, and if that was the case… he shuddered at the thought.  The one thing he wanted less than someone watching him have his ass kicked by the American, was anybody watching him have his ass fucked by the American.

Both situations would be humiliating, and he’d be damned if anybody saw either.

He picked a direction and hurried down the hallway, stopping in front of a map of the floor a few feet down.  There were arrows pointing to the dozens of rooms back from the direction he’d come, and another sign indicating that one of the dining halls would be further ahead on the right.  He breathed a sign of relief and tore off in that direction.  He’d have to make a stand, and it was the best place available for the two of them to throw down in.

+++

The door to the dining area slid open without a sound and the British boxer stepped inside.  It was dark save for the light coming from the colourful tanks of exotic fish placed strategically around the room for ambiance.  The Japanese-style tables were set up far apart, leaving plenty of room for the two men to brawl when it came to it.  Steve hurried inside the room, leaving the door open behind him.  He put himself at the centre of the room, turning the moment he heard Bryan arrive and putting up his fists.  The drunken buzz he’d had before was blessedly gone after all the adrenaline had begun coursing through his veins, preparing himself for whatever happened next.

Bryan stood in the doorframe, not looking the least bit tired and he almost casually closed the door behind him and began to stroll over to where Steve stood.  His broad, unnerving smile was still firmly in place, with a husky whisper of a chuckle breaking from his chest.  The sound caused the blonde’s muscles to tighten, making him go rigid with anticipation.

There was a pause in both men’s movements before Bryan rushed forward, dodging the first few powerful swings that Steve sent for his head.  He spun out around them and landed a powerful right-hook into the blonde’s side, knocking the breath out of him and dropping him to the ground.

Steve gasped for air, holding his bruised rib while he tried to push himself onto his feet.  He wouldn’t let himself be taken down with one shot like that, but he was having trouble getting up, having trouble breathing.  Bryan grabbed a fistful of golden hair to help him along, pulling the stunned Brit into the air.  He was roughly dragged towards one of the tables and thrown onto it, the eerie light of the fish tanks casting his form with an ethereal glow.

Steve stared blankly up at the American, gasping until finally he regained his wind and filled his lungs with sweet oxygen.  He shook his head, the reality of the situation still taking its time to sink in.  He’d lost…

Bryan looked down at the blonde laid out before him; his previous aggression seemed to ebb somewhat as his expression softened to a more lustful gaze.  Without a word he climbed onto the table, crawling on hands and knees until he was positioned above Steve’s body.

“What do you want?” the blonde asked, still keeping his voice steady despite the absolute uncertainty of his position.

“I already told you, I’m going to try out my new enhancements,” Bryan said in a voice much more controlled than the mindless laughter that Steve had heard from him earlier.

“Shouldn’t that wait until-ah, stop that!” Steve swatted at the hand that was massaging his chest.  He tried to make Bryan stop, but the American didn’t seem to care about his protests, instead pushing more firmly with his hands and lowering his frame until he was sitting on the blonde’s thighs, squeezing him between powerful legs. 

“What the hell kind of upgrades would you get that would need you to do this?”  Steve squirmed uncomfortably; his previous panic was being replaced with a feeling in the pit of his stomach that would, under normal circumstances, be welcomed.  He tried to bring his knee up to push the other man away from him, but soon dropped it back onto the table, realizing it was futile, and his eyes darted about him for some way to get out.

Bryan shifted his weight, bringing a knee between Steve’s legs to spread them further apart.  He quickly drove it upwards until it was firmly resting against the younger man’s groin.  The blonde grunted and tried to edge away from that firm, muscled thigh that rested against him then.  “Bugger off!  The hell ya doin’?”

The American held him fast, holding his shoulders in place and keeping him from inching away from him.  “How about a little pre-fight workout, huh?” he asked, laughing as he pushed up the boxer’s shirt, his calloused fingers latching onto a nipple and twisting until Steve cried out.

Steve clenched his teeth, felt his face burning at the sound he’d made and instead glared up into Bryan’s cold, blue eyes.  There was sadism glowing in those icy orbs, but something else; hunger.  Bryan was radiating desire, his movements becoming more aggressive and Steve realized that he didn’t have much longer to try and escape, if he could at all.  He grabbed a hold of Bryan’s wrist, digging his nails into the flesh and wrenching as hard as he could, trying to pry his hands away from his chest.  He bit his lip and threw his shoulder to the side, perhaps trying to throw the cyborg off balance, but it was more of a last-ditch effort, as nothing he did seemed to move the man above him.

“Your grappling skills suck,” Bryan grinned, twisting his nipple even more in his vise-like grip until Steve grunted in pain, his nerves awakening under the rough treatment of the American.

He closed his eyes, feeling his back tightening up, his heart beating faster… and not from fear.  He tentatively tried to swing his hips out, trying to approach the situation with a bit more tact than trying to muscle his way out.  The movement wasn’t lost on the cyborg, however, and he brought his head down quickly, driving his forehead against Steve’s nose and disorienting the younger man with a powerful head-butt.

Steve reeled, his eyes watered from the pain in his nose and he could taste blood in his mouth.  He opened his mouth to tell the other man off, but quickly bit back any complaints he had, the noise coming out as a small moan of approval.  Bryan’s head was bowed over him, his tongue rapidly moving out to lap at the nipple that he’d been abusing moments earlier. 

“Like that, don’t you, ya little whore,” Bryan grunted, nipping at the bruised skin before running his tongue flat against the nub that stood erect from the blonde’s chest.

Steve could feel his resolve melting away, the fear mixing with the raw hunger that he could feel bubbling under his skin.  It might have been a mechanism for survival that was ingrained into his system, enabling him to enjoy the situation in order to survive it (because he sure as hell wasn’t getting out of it), or it might have just as easily been the months of accumulated stress that he’d been under while training for the tournament.  Steve didn’t know, and at that moment he didn’t give a shit either.  If he was going to enjoy this, he might as well get into it.  He relaxed under Bryan’s touch, letting the buzzing in his blood spread throughout his body and began focusing on the pleasure of the situation.  The moment he relaxed, Bryan stopped working on his nipples, snapping his head up to look Steve in the face.  His eyes were narrowed with suspicion as he appraised the change in the situation.

Steve looked into his eyes defiantly for a moment, but lost the nerve after a few minutes and averted his eyes to the side.  The smirk on the American’s face was almost audible as he shifted his weight again and in one swift movement ripped Steve’s shirt off.

The Brit looked down at his torn shirt as it was casually tossed over Bryan’s while he got to work on his pants.  “Oi, do you know how much that cost?” he asked as his pants were half-pulled half-torn off his body.

“No, and I don’t care either, now shut up,” Bryan said, throwing the now-ruined clothing aside.  He began to hastily unzip his own pants.

Steve covered his cock, “Hey if we’re gonna do this… do you have any… lubricant?”

“Why?  You want me to use some on ya?” Bryan’s tone was dry and unmoving.

“Well, yeah!” the blonde said, his fighting spirit renewed.  He’d be damned if he let the American bastard dry-fuck him into the table.

“I guess you want me to prepare you too, then?”  Bryan grumbling under his breath as he climbed off of him and went to the greeter’s counter of the restaurant.  He came back moments later with a bottle of hand lotion.  “This better be good enough,” he said, tossing the container on the table.

Steve sighed, relieved.  “Yeah, it’ll do.  I wonder why they have hand lotion here…?”

“Th’ fuck should I know?  Maybe they have chronic dry hands?  Like I give a shit!” Bryan climbed back over top of Steve.  “Now, where were we?”  He spread the younger man’s legs apart, slinging one over the edge of the table and laying his hands on the tanned body beneath him.

Steve watched Bryan, never taking his eyes from those blue ones that regarded his body with both lust and a passing interest.  There was a spark there, a drive.  Something was urging Bryan onwards and, for once, that look didn’t scare the shit out of Steve.  The excitement of what they were doing was intoxicating.  He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t stop.  It wasn’t that he was particularly attracted to Bryan, but the situation was so damn sexy that he couldn’t help but spread his knees a bit more to give the American more room.

“Eager little slut, aren’t ya!” Bryan grunted, his scarred hand reaching down to grab a hold of Steve’s erection.

The Brit groaned, “Fuck off.”

Bryan laughed a more toned-down, throaty laugh that still sent a shiver of fear up the blonde’s spine as his dick was roughly squeezed.  The shiver of excitement that followed was stronger, though, and Steve grunted loudly as he felt himself harden further.  He shut his eyes and flung his arms out from his body, wrapping one hand around the edge of the table and gripping it tightly, the other came to rest against his damp forehead.  He turned his head to the side and just focused on the feeling, the sensation of those wonderfully rough hands moving over his hard cock, jerking upwards, squeezing tightly before quickly moving down to thump against his balls.  It was unbelievable.  He brought his arm down, biting his fist to keep from crying out.

Then, the hands left him.

“Oi, what th-?” Steve opened his eyes, about to give Bryan a piece of his mind for stopping, but shut his mouth before another word could leave.  The American was sitting back on his haunches; pants already opened and pulled down enough to free his impressive erection.  He watched, feeling his arousal twitch against his abdomen as Bryan stroked his cock, fingers lingering at the head to pinch it roughly before sliding back down to the base.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bryan said suddenly, dropping his cock and grabbing Steve’s knees, pushing them apart and up against the blonde’s chest.

Steve looked down his torso, holding his legs up but watching Bryan with an untrusting gaze.

“What?” the cyborg asked as he gripped his cock, ready to put it against the blonde’s entrance.

“Shouldn’t you prepare me, or something?” Steve said, irritated.

Bryan sighed, dropping his cock and unceremoniously pushing a finger against Steve’s ass.

The pucker tightened around the invading digit and the blonde pulled away from it.  “Oi!  Use the bloody lubricant, ya fucking bastard!” 

The American rolled his eyes again, as if it was the most troublesome thing anyone had ever asked him to do.  He let go of the Brit’s knee and grabbed the tube of hand cream, squeezing most of it out onto his hand and spreading it over his cock.  “Fucking cold…” he mumbled under his breath.

Steve started to grin at the comment, but just as quickly stopped when Bryan dolloped some of the cold cream onto a finger and pushed his knees apart again.  The blonde’s ass was spread apart; his tight, dark entrance presented to the cyborg who wordlessly wiped the cold substance right in its centre.

“Fuck, that’s cold!” Steve complained, his ass clamping down onto the finger that pushed its way inside him.  It pulled out and roughly pushed inside again.  Steve grunted, it wasn’t really painful, but it was distracting enough for him to forget any pleasure he’d experienced up to that point.

After a few more strokes Bryan jammed another finger inside.

“This isn’t a fucking race, you know!” Steve looked down at the older man, his face red with embarrassment.

“Hurry up and get excited, then!” Bryan frowned, a look coming across his face that said he was about ready to just fuck him without preparation.

Steve felt a rush of panic well up inside him.  “Hey, just give me a minute!  No need to get hasty there!”  He quickly reached down to grab a hold of his softening erection, his fingers strumming along the underside to coax some new life into it.  Up and down, up and down, he reached with his free hand to cup his balls, rolling the globes between his fingers before squeezing them slightly.  He increased the pace on his cock, thrusting his hips upward into his grasping hand, pulling hard on his dick while his hips snapped back towards the table.  He felt the pulling at his base, the nerves there awakening anew and the warm rush of arousal spreading lower into his balls.  The discomfort was leaving him; he felt his body buzzing with the blood rushing through his veins.  What mattered to him at that moment was the feeling between his legs; if he kept going, he discovered, he’d be finished in a few minutes.  Not even the feeling of Bryan’s finger entering him made him lose his rhythm.  It meshed so well with the sensations; thrust upwards, fall back onto that deliciously invading digit, jerk upwards into that warm cave of fisted fingers, and back down onto two fingers.  He tossed his head backwards, blonde hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead.  It was… he moaned loudly as he sank down onto three fingers, his rhythm interrupted.  He ground down onto them for a moment, legs spreading apart to get them deeper inside him.  “Oh god,” he moaned loudly, the name trailing off into a sound of sheer pleasure.

Bryan pulled his fingers out and quickly pushed Steve’s knees up and apart again.  Steve cracked an eye open in time to see Bryan guide the head of his cock to the well prepared entrance.  The blonde spread his legs apart, never letting his hand leave his own firm arousal.  He continued teasing his cock as the cyborg pushed his way inside him, knowing that Bryan wouldn’t hold back if he tensed up and clenched down suddenly.  He watched the older man with wide eyes, surprised by the restraint he was showing in pushing inside him (not that he was complaining).  It wasn’t until Bryan was deeply seated inside Steve that he stopped, his head was tilted back, and his eyes closed in rapture.  The moment lasted a second before a violent shudder spread throughout the cyborg’s body and his head snapped forward, a ravenous look in his eyes as he peered down at Steve on the table.  He regarded the boxer the way a tiger regards a piece of meat and before Steve could ready himself Bryan was moving.  His hips pulled back, his dick caressing the inside of the tight passage on its way out before being angrily thrust inside again.  The short, little thrusts that Bryan had started out with were quickly growing into longer, more fluid movements. 

Steve let out a breath he’d been holding and let Bryan rock him with his powerful thrusts.  He laid back, not really able to push back against the cyborg and instead contented himself to pull on his cock, squeezing it tightly, almost painfully, until he felt his pulse throbbing against his fisted hand.  Steve watched Bryan through heavy-lidded eyes, secretly enjoying the sight of the American as his body moved with ever increasing urgency to fuck him into the table.  He was incredible, his whole body tensed with the strain, sweat glistening on his brow.  His movements were liquid, one leading into the next in a barrage of fucking that set Steve’s nerves on fire.  Then, with the same fluidity of movement, Bryan stopped his thrusting to grab the blonde’s legs and hoist them over his shoulders.  Steve found himself bent in half as Bryan leaned further over him, bracing each hand on the table beside his head and somehow managing to drive his cock even further inside him.

They were face to face.  Steve reached up to hold onto Bryan’s wrists, grabbing at the older man for purchase, trying to hold himself steady to keep from bouncing upwards with every powerful thrust against him.  It was incredible, the older man’s cock reached so deeply within him Steve could only gasp and curse at how it felt.  Bryan remained silent above him, with only his breathing betraying how the blonde’s body was affecting him.  The cyborg’s expression was neutral, and he could very well have been doing something else, instead of fucking if you were to only look at his face.  Steve smirked, clenching down around the older man, squeezing his ass to increase the friction they both felt.  It was suicidal and stupid, but the blood that made Steve’s brain function was otherwise occupied and he felt like seeing the other fighter with something other than a scowl on his face.

Bryan grunted loudly, his pace thrown off by the sudden change in friction.  His eyes cut down to glare daggers into the blonde beneath him, but quickly changed to shocked surprise as Steve reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.  It lasted only a minute and ended when Bryan pulled away, bracing himself on one hand to free the other up to grab the boxer by the hair.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, coldly.

“Well, I’m sick of just lying here and staring up at your face.  I had to do something!” Steve smirked.

Bryan didn’t say anything, instead sitting back on his haunches and pulling himself free of the younger man.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asked, a little put off that Bryan was stopping.  Sure, at first the idea of being fucked by Bryan hadn’t been appealing to him, but that was then and this was now and he wanted to be fucked, damnit!

“Flip over,” Bryan instructed, his rich baritone betraying his excitement.  “Get on your hands and knees.  It’ll be easier,” he added, “and keep you from kissing me again.”

“What’s the matter?”  Steve asked, climbing onto all fours and looking over his shoulder at the other man.  “My kisses not good enough for you?”

Bryan climbed into position behind him, putting the head of his dick against Steve’s ass again.  “It’ll also keep me from killing you for kissing me,” he clarified and grabbed hold of the blonde’s hips, snapping his pelvis forward and planting the entire length of his arousal into the hot opening.

Steve was going to say something, he was sure it would have been really witty too, but when Bryan re-entered him he the words dyed on his mouth and instead came out in a long, deep moan.  His hands shot forward, trying to find something, anything to grab a hold of, fingers finally curling around the edges of the table and holding on for dear life.  Bryan pulled his hips backwards, strength afforded him by his cybernetic enhancements increased the force behind his thrusting.

“Go-d!  Fuck, you, bugger!  FUCK!”

“Like that, don’t you?”  Bryan laughed.  “Maybe I’ll use this as my finishing move at the tournament tomorrow.”

“Shut up!”  Steve yelled, trying to twist his head to look over his shoulder at the older man.  “Just keep…” he panted.  “Don’t stop!”

“Like anything you say could stop me, kid,” Bryan growled, angling his hips downwards so that his next stroke would hit the blonde’s prostate.

+++

A muffled cry broke through Steve’s lips, signaling to the cyborg that he’d hit his mark.  Bryan just smirked and kept thrusting harder.  He was like a machine, the enhancements he’d been given only becoming obvious as he continued to fuck the blonde boxer.  While Steve was becoming tired, nearly breaking from the strain of keeping up, Bryan felt as if he could keep fucking for hours and hours on end.  His stamina felt like it had been tripled, no, quadrupled, it was incredible.  He threw his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling that was enveloping his cock; wet, hot heat, softer than his own calloused hand pulled, encased, caressed… it was so clear, and he could feel things so much more vividly.  Every sensation was enhanced, transmitted directly to his brain so that he couldn’t miss a thing.

He reached forward, grabbing a fist full of Steve’s blonde hair and yanking backwards.  Steve cried out, the sound of pain was breathy and laden with desire.  Releasing his hair he reached around the boxer to grab hold of his cock.  It was bobbing excitedly between his legs and the American wrapped skilled fingers around it, pumping it while he expertly continued to thrust his hips in time, trapping Steve between his cock and his hand.

Steve cried out again, but this time it didn’t stop.  It was pain, and pleasure, and desperation all rolled into one breathless, moaning, never-ending sound.  The only break would be when the blonde ran out of air, and that was followed by a deep gasp and the sound would continue.  The blonde dug his nails into the table, cursing as loud as he could, damning Bryan, and cursing a blue streak that only made the cyborg hotter.  His words were angry, denying everything that he felt even as his cock twitched in the American’s hand, sputtering white, creamy release onto the sleek table and his body twitched violently.  He shuddered, even as Bryan continued to drive into him. 

Bryan watched with detached interest, enjoying the feeling of the other man’s ass clamping down around his dick but not really giving a shit otherwise.  He grinned.  His smile started small, but quickly grew to a broad, toothy grin and he couldn’t help tossing his head back and laughing as everything washed over him so completely and he allowed himself to get lost in the moment.  He dropped Steve’s cock, reaching up with both hands to grab hold of his shoulders and lay into the younger man with all his strength.  He could feel it inside him, something coiling up, readying to be released.  The nerves along his dick were already strained beyond what he’d been able to handle before; everything was warm, hot, burning.  He clenched his teeth, half-masked moans choked their way past as he felt himself losing control.  The coiled beast that was gaining strength within him was taking over.  It lit his senses on fire, overloading everything he could hear, smell, taste, see, and feel.  It was all overpowered by the strength of that deliciously intoxicating beast as it exploded within him, sending shockwaves spreading like wildfire from his belly, straight through his balls and along his dick, still deeply seated within Steve.  It spread outward, spreading along his spine and rapidly moving upwards, filling his chest with a buzzing sensation that shot out to his limbs and up to his head.  He shook, fingers digging deeply into Steve’s shoulders as he quivered under the weight of his own release.  His cock eagerly pumped wave after wave of sticky cum inside the blonde’s tight passage and he ground deeply against it a couple times until the effects of his release began to subside.

Steve made a sound of protest and started to pull himself away from the older man.  Bryan smacked his ass as it pulled away and let his dick slide free, still firm and ready to continue if he wanted as it bounced happily against his navel.

He ignored Steve as the boxer climbed off the table and began to look through the pile of torn clothes on the floor.  “Fucker!  You ruined everything!”

Bryan climbed off the table and tucked his cock back into his pants.  He turned to Steve as he zipped them up, looking over the garments that the blonde was pushing in his face.  He arched an eyebrow and reached out with a hand, wrapping it around Steve’s neck and pulling him closer for a sloppy, sated kiss.  Steve pushed against his chest, but Bryan just ran his tongue out of his mouth and along the Brit’s jaw line before pulling away.

He smirked and chuckled under his breath while sensually running his hands down his torso.  “Hmmm, these enhancements are going to work for me,” he purred, tightly squeezing the bulge in his pants and grunting in approval before turning and walking out of the restaurant, leaving Steve staring in disbelief, still naked and holding his ruined clothes.

“Oi,” the blonde called after him.  “Could you bring me some new… clothes?"

+++

The image of the hotel restaurant flickered on the large wall-sized screen in what was not then, nor ever had been, a security office.  A shaded figure who had nothing to do with security sat at an ornate desk in the darkness, almond eyes taking in the sight of the naked Brit climbing over the counter to steal a uniform from the staffroom.  “You won’t find anything there,” he sighed in a singsong voice.  That voice turned to a chuckle when Steve slipped over the laminate surface and fell out of view.  Such entertainment for only a small fortune, it was really worth it to pay for Bryan’s enhancements.  A dark smile played at the edges of his delicate mouth before he steepled his fingers thoughtfully against his mouth and hummed approvingly.  “Only a few more to go.”


	3. An Angry Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Steve Fox in the elevator, Hwoarang and Jin return to their room.  Jin's thoughts of sleep are overshadowed by Hwoarang's desire to indulge in more physical exertion, but all thoughts turn to drinking when they discover a gift basket has been left in their room.  Its origin isn't questioned as the two men dive into the free alcohol, which serve to loosen Hwoarang's tongue considerably.  Jin's resolve is weakened through insults and expensive wine leading to Devil gaining more ground in his psyche. The two fighters find themselves pitted against each other in a violent confrontation as Jin loses control, and it's up to Hwoarang to save him and not get killed while doing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit iffy when I started this pairing, but I believe in the reversibility of Jin and Hwoarang's characters, so I stuck to it.  I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.  Just to clarify: "south-paw" means that someone is left handed.  Also, the drink in the scene at the very end of the chapter is Plum Brandy.  I don't drink Brandy, so I didn't know how it tasted.  I researched and found that Plum Brandy tastes like almonds.  (Yeah, I'm sure. No booze tastes like alcohol ^_^)  Hwoarang's drink is Sambucca.  I have a lot of experience with a friend who LOVED this.  (Loved it so much he married it in a small wedding ceremony while we were camping.  True story!)  It really does taste like black licorice and nothing else.

Hwoarang kept his arm around Jin while he led the other man from the elevator to their room.  It had taken the alcohol longer to work its magic on the brunette, but it had been worth it.  Jin, his demeanour usually cool and unforgiving, was letting loose; laughing at how neither of them could walk, and even put his arm around Hwoarang's waist while they wandered down the quiet, empty hallway. 

Jin was ready for bed, but Hwoarang had no intention of letting him slip off into dreamland so easily.  Through his own inebriated state he was in the mood to fight, or fuck; whichever came first.  He jumped as he felt a hand grab his ass and he whirled on Jin who was laughing in his face.  It was almost musical hearing it from him, but that didn't stop the redhead from grabbing his wrist and twisting it away.  "Eager, aren't ya?" he asked, pulling Jin closer to him.  His rival had been quiet all evening while they were at the bar.  Since they'd walked into the elevator, however, he'd instantly turned into one of those silly drunks that got on Hwoarang's nerves.  The Korean smacked at Jin's hands again, pulling their room key from his pocket and sliding it through the card reader in the handle.

Jin stopped laughing, his grin dropping to a smile as he allowed himself to be pulled into the room.  "I feel so fuzzy," he laughed and then suddenly looked very worried.

"It's called being drunk," Hwoarang said, kicking off his boots and locking the door behind him.  "Why don't you drink more?" he offered, hoping Jin would agree to the suggestion. 

Jin didn't answer him and Hwoarang flicked on the lights to brighten up the dark room.  The dim mood-lighting bathed the room in a sleepy glow and illuminated a rather large gift basket that sat at the centre of their bed.  Even through the Korean's inebriated state his senses went on alert and he immediately scanned the room for intruders.  Jin remained quiet and tentatively walked towards the bathroom to peer into the small, tiled room.  He came back a moment later and shook his head; they were the only two people there.

They looked at each other, both their paranoia piqued, and Jin briefly remembered his earlier concerns over who had set them up in the room in the first place.  His eyes flicked over to the television, as if the device would come alive again with images and sounds of adult films that entered his ears and went straight to his groin.

Hwoarang, however, was the first to make a move, hesitantly at first but quickly becoming bold as he moved to the bed and reached out to inspect the basket.  He pushed one side of it, looking for… something, but after a few minutes he hadn't found what he was looking for and decided to tear into it.

"No bombs.  Must be okay!" he announced, throwing decorative wrapping everywhere.

"Hwoarang," Jin started, sinking onto the bed beside the redhead.  "Don't you wonder who left this here for us?  It seems a bit suspicious…"

"Just as suspicious as porn that won't turn off," Hwoarang said, grabbing the TV remote and pushing a few buttons.  Jin grabbed the controller from his hand before he succeeded in turning anything on with it.

Hwoarang glared at him for a moment, but quickly forgot about the TV and began digging through the gift basket.  "Whoa, they've got those fancy cheeses that rich people eat!"

"Hmm," Jin answered, leaning over to pull a bottle of wine from the package.  "Beaujolais…" he pulled a corkscrew from the basket and quickly uncorked the bottle.  "I think grandpa had some of this somewhere…"

"Oh, booze!"  Hwoarang forgot the cheese and leaned across the bed to make a grab for the bottle. 

Jin held it close against his body and pushed the redhead out of the way.  "Get your own," he said after Hwoarang gave him a death glare.  "There are plenty of bottles in there," he gestured to the basket while putting the bottle to his lips and taking a drink.  The liquid was a mixture of sweet and bitter as it washed over his pallet.  It wasn't like the beer that Hwoarang had encouraged him to drink at the bar.  No, this was far, far better.  He tilted his head back as he pulled the bottle from his lips.  It glided down his throat, biting slightly at the edges before sinking comfortably into his belly.  He opened his eyes and peered over at his rival.  His view was getting fuzzy again, but he didn't care.  It was much more comfortable than how he'd felt at the bar after drinking all that cheap beer.  Deep inside he felt an irritating warmth spread across his chest.  Something was tugging at the edges of his brain, but he decided it was nothing and took another swig of the Beaujolais.

While the brunette drank, Hwoarang finally decided on an oddly shaped black bottle.  He didn't recognize the gold words on the outside and decided to do a taste test to discover what it was.  He lifted it free and twisted the cap off.  He sniffed the opening and quickly turned his face away with a grimace.  He was about to set the bottle aside and find something else, but he saw Jin was still chugging the contents of his bottle and his competitive instinct took over.  His grip tightened around the dark bottle as the brunette finally pulled his own away to smack his lips contentedly; making a show that he was enjoying his wine.

Hwoarang narrowed his eyes and put the dark bottle to his lips.  He'd be damned if Jin drank more than him.  He held back a shudder as the burning liquid slid down his throat, leaving a taste in his mouth like black licorice. 

He hated black licorice.

The Blood Talon pulled the bottle from his lips, the remaining liquid sinking back to the halfway mark.  "Jin," he started, wiggling the bottle to show that it was half empty.  "There's no way you could ever drink more than me."  He hiccupped, "I've been drinking since before your mommy n' you were living in the fucking forest," he belched loudly, grinned and lifted the bottle again, pouring more of the biting liquid down his throat.

He failed to notice the look that Jin was giving him.  The brunette's hand was twitching; his hand tightening around the bottle of Beaujolais that he'd thought was delicious moments before.  His eyes had lost their drunken glee and his features became darker and more serious. 

Hwoarang was grimacing against the licorice taste and didn't see the spark of lightening that sprang from Jin's hand and danced its way up his arm.  If he had, he might not have laughed as he pulled the now-empty bottle from his lips and loudly set it on the nightstand just to show his rival that he'd finished first.

Jin took a breath, "Don't talk about stuff that you don't know anything about."  He could feel the darkness inside him feeding off of his emotions, his anger pushing against the protective shell of calm and restraint that he'd built.  Under normal circumstances he could have brushed off the calloused comment and chalked it up to the Korean's character and ignorance.  But he was feeling fuzzy, and had made a mistake by letting loose and enjoying himself the moment the alcohol had warmed his belly.  That crack in his resolve had been enough for the Devil inside him to push other emotions forward; unwelcome, dangerous emotions that he'd kept bottled up for a long time.  Jin stood and walked to the window, looking out and trying to collect his thoughts.

"Whatta ya mean, Kazama?" Hwoarang asked, stuffing some chocolates into his mouth.  "I know what I'm talking about!  You didn't have it half as bad as me growing up.  It's why you're gonna lose this competition."

"What?" Jin said, his lip curling as he turned to face the Korean.

Hwoarang rolled off the bed and stood next to his rival by the window.  "Don't worry; I won't humiliate you or anything," he threw his arm around the brunette.  It was a relaxed gesture, but it just made Jin tense under it.  "I'm just going to beat your ass down within the first ten seconds of the fight, is all!"  He grinned, pulling Jin closer so that the smell of licorice wafted off his words.  The booze was working its magic; making Hwoarang fuzzy and warm and invincible.

Jin turned away from the redhead.  "Yeah, well, don't do me any favours," he said, walking away from the Blood Talon and letting the other man stumble without his support.  "The only reason that our last fight was a tie is because I held myself back.  You don't know what you're up against, Hwoarang."  He bit the name out as the electricity inside him grew.  He should find another room.  If Hwoarang would just shut up and leave him alone, he'd be able to control himself.

"Yes I do," Hwoarang said with some effort.  "I'm up against-"

"Don't…" Jin said, cutting the other man off.

"I'm up against a pussy-ass momma's boy who doesn't know who he is without someone to tell him!"

"Just… shut up…" Jin said, his lip curling and he walked away, quickly disappearing around the corner and into the bathroom.

"Look, Kazama, I don't give a fuck if your grandpa is Heihachi Mishima and you've had all this fancy training from your mommy," Hwoarang followed him.  "It pisses me off that someone who doesn't know shit about the way the real world works wouldn't lose to me."

"Shut the FUCK up," Jin turned on Hwoarang and made the other man step back.  "I don't give two shits about your pride or if you think that your life was so tough and you're entitled to anything."

Hwoarang was surprisingly quiet.  Jin was… really mad.

"Leave me alone, alright?"  His voice fell and he cringed, clutching at his sides.

"What's the matter?" Hwoarang asked as Jin went to the bathroom.  "Gonna puke?"

Jin shuddered as a wave of pain coursed through him and he collapsed into the wall.  He was so mad.  Hwoarang was so ignorant that he couldn't even understand why he should shut up, so he just kept talking.

"Kazama?" Hwoarang asked from outside the bathroom, uncertain if he should step inside.

Jin squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the lightening spreading, sparking through his cells and dancing along his skin.  He could feel his hairs standing on end and the dark laughter in the back of his mind was deafening him.

He clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise that echoed throughout his mind as the Devil inside him raged to get out.  "Shut up.  Shut up!" he yelled, trying to just get it to stop.  Everything was spinning, he could smell burning and his vision was darkening.

+++

"Just let me out!" the voice echoed.  "I'll beat that smug fucker into the carpet.  Let me the hell out!  I'm gonna kill him!"

"No!" Jin yelled back, snarling as his canines elongated into sharp points.  He had to focus.  Think of something calm.

He concentrated, calling images of his mother to his mind.  He focused on them, the memories of his childhood when it had only been him and her.  She was smiling at the base of the waterfall by their home.  He closed his mind to everything else and remembered that day.  She'd been washing clothes and he'd snuck up on her to surprise her.  She hadn't sensed him before he jumped out of the water and she'd told him how proud she was.

She'd been smiling.

Happy.

Alive.

He focused on her; the way her hair had looked in the light, the loving look in her eyes.  Everything he could remember about her and even some imagined things that were too angelic to be real.

Her features shimmered in his mind and he could feel the warmth of that day.  Her mouth was slowly moving, her teeth glinting in the sunlight while she spoke.

"What?" he asked.  He couldn't hear her.

"I said I won't be overpowered that easily!"  The voice of Devil came from her mouth and Jin recoiled in horror.  Her features shimmered as they began to melt.  Her eyes burned with a fierce glow that Jin recognized and he cried out as the form of his mother was ripped apart and Devil stood in her place.

+++

"Shit, you okay man?" Hwoarang rushed into the bathroom as Jin made a terrible sound.  The other man had begun shaking and sounded as if he'd been speaking to himself.  "What the fuck is going on?  You, uh… need an ambulance?" he leaned down to Jin's level.  His rival, Jin Kazama, was kicking outwards, desperately pushing himself back against the wall, his eyes wild with pain as he clawed at his chest.  Hwoarang reached out to put his hand on Jin's shoulder, but quickly drew back as he received a nasty shock and the other man growled menacingly.

Hwoarang quickly stood up and backed out of the bathroom as Jin rose from the floor and somehow elevated himself into the air.  His body bowed backwards at a painfully odd angle and his body sparked with shoots of electricity that raised his shirt from his skin and incinerated it on his body.   He curled forward and Hwoarang could see two points rising out from his back, pushing against the skin until it ripped open and two black points pushed outwards.  Blood splattered on the wall behind him and the points kept growing, snaking out from Jin's back until they unfurled and revealed themselves as black, feathery wings.

The transformation, however, was far from over.  Jin screamed and clamped his hands to his head as two points began to glow from beneath his hairline.  His head snapped back as a pair of horns shot out, coiling from his forehead and spiraling upwards until they stood like two twisting monoliths atop his head.

Hwoarang shielded his eyes from a surge of light that encompassed Jin's form, burning away the other man's clothing and even the scream that fled his lips.

Jin's new form lowered itself to the floor, his heavy boots clunking as they connected with the tiled floor.  He tilted his head down, staring wildly at his hands, seeming to try and focus on the claws that had formed there.  He clenched his hands tightly, and began shaking.  Hwoarang took another step backwards as blood leaked from between Jin's fingers and the shudders turned to unrepressed laughter.  The foreign sound was different, deeper, and stopped suddenly when Jin spun around to glare at Hwoarang, his eyes blazing with electricity and anger.

"I should thank you," he said, swiveling his feet to take a step towards the redhead.

Hwoarang stood his ground, putting his fists between himself and Jin.  "Shit, what the fuck are you, Jin?"

The name sent a twitch to the Jin's eye and he growled, unhappy at the sound.  "Jin is gone," he said.  "You weakened him enough to free me.  You and your childish taunts," he curled a lip upwards, revealing glinting fangs.  "You think that just because you were a street rat when you were a child that it makes you a man?  Don't think that you're any better now than you were then, fool!  I am the true power behind this man.  I am the god that is his strength!" he moved forward, driving a fist past Hwoarang's guard.

The Korean reeled from the force of the blow.  He caught himself a few feet back and moved further into the room to give himself more space.

He grinned as the creature that now controlled Jin's body followed him.  He wiped at the blood that he could taste at the side of his mouth.  "God?" he asked, keeping his fists up and bouncing on the balls of his feet.  "You're more like a fucking devil!  Not that it makes a difference," he added.  "I'm still gonna kick your ass!"

The other man's wings swept along behind him, dusting the expensive hotel carpeting with black feathers.  The inky appendages spread out from the creature's back, lifting high into the air and truly stretching for the first time in ages.  "I will show you the true meaning of the word power," Devil Jin said once he paused in his advances towards the Korean.  "I have been trapped deep inside Jin's body since the last foolish tournament.  Two years is long enough to whet my appetite for blood, and I will have you begging me for mercy before the night is out," he sniffed as he looked the redhead up and down.

Hwoarang could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushing out the alcohol that had dominated his blood before.  The delicious anticipation before a fight was intoxicating, especially if it promised to be as trying as this one.  "Whatever," he said, thumbing his nose at the creature before him.  "You think just because you grow a pair of wings that I'll be scared?  I'll take you down and make you eat those words."  He rushed towards the new Jin, his leg sweeping upwards in a flurry of kicks that would have a lesser fighter sprawled backwards and unconscious.

Devil Jin blocked, bringing his arm up to deflect or catch each hit.  Hwoarang swore, bringing his leg down only to spin on his feet and launch himself into the air.  He flew at the demon, his foot outstretched to connect with the creature's head, but it reached up to block, catching the other man's foot and spinning around and swinging Hwoarang onto the bed.  "Fuck," the Korean cursed, trying to right himself and roll off the mattress.  "Fuck you, asshole!  I hope you enjoyed that, because I'm about to make you wish you'd never been born."

"Oh, really?"  Devil Jin said, extending his wings a few feet to casually shake them out.  "I doubt you could do that," he said, side-stepping another well-aimed kick that Hwoarang fired out at his leg.

"Watch me, asshole," the redhead grit his teeth and switched his stance to fight south-paw.  He could fight right or left handed and knew it'd make things a touch more difficult for the creature… at least, he hoped it would.

The demon gave him a dirty look and changed his stance to compensate.  He still managed to hold his own, although Hwoarang succeeded in sneaking in a few good hits and knocked him back.

Devil Jin regained his footing and brought a clawed hand up to smear the blood from his nose.  His eyes flicked up, narrowing at the Korean before he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked at the blood there.  "I hope you enjoyed that," he said, flapping his wings to propel him forward.

Hwoarang raised his arms to block, but the force behind the demon's body was stronger than he'd anticipated and he was knocked onto the bed again.  He rolled over, trying to climb up, but Devil Jin was on him in an instant, pinning him face-down and clawing at him.  He sat heavily on Hwoarang's thighs, his weight seeming to have grown since his transformation.  He pressed one hand against Hwoarang's back while the other made short work of his clothes; claws slicing through the leather and material and cutting deeply into the warm skin beneath.

Hwoarang struggled against the creature; gritting his teeth and trying to twist out from under the powerful body, but for all his struggles and curses, he was trapped.  "When I get outta here…" he started, gritting his teeth as a claw dug deeply into his back.

"When I finally release you," the demon corrected him, grabbing the remainder of Hwoarang's pants and ripping them off the Korean's body.  He reached out to grab the human's arms, pulling them back until the sick pop of one of Hwoarang's shoulders dislocating filled his ears.

"I'll fucking kill you!"  Hwoarang bellowed, quickly biting his tongue against the pain.  He grunted as his arms were released and he let them flop back onto the bed by his side.

Devil Jin wasn't wasting any time in spreading his legs apart.  No matter how much the redhead tried to keep his ass clenched, the Devil simply planted a knee between his thighs and forced them apart with inhuman strength.

With the creature behind him, Hwoarang pushed himself off the bed with his one good arm.  He didn't know how the fuck he was going to get out of it, but he'd be damned if he let him fuck him without a fight.

He flipped himself onto his back, maneuvering his legs to try and knock the demon off balance.  If he could just turn the tables…

Devil Jin, unfortunately, was just as well trained in grappling as the Korean was, and he caught the redhead's legs as they tried to kick him out of the way.  "All this foreplay," he purred, his eyes flashing as he spread Hwoarang's legs again and maneuvered between them before leaning down over the human.  "I'm beginning to see what my host sees in you."

Hwoarang's one good hand was held down, sharp claws digging into his wrist with enough strength to break the skin.  If he moved, he'd be torn up.  He stared defiantly into the dark, glowing eyes that hovered inches away from his own.  While the face was so familiar to him, the soul that he saw in those eyes was not the same.  This man was different from the one he'd known ever since their chance encounter back on the streets of Korea.  It was as if Jin Kazama wasn't there anymore.

"Kazama?" he hazarded to ask.  "What are you?"  His question broke off into a hiss of pain as the demon casually dragged his claws across his chest to graze a nipple.

"That," the creature within Jin laughed.  "You will find out soon enough."

Hwoarang glared daggers at Jin, or rather, the creature using Jin's body.  He considered how he could maneuver his legs around to push the demon from him.

His thoughts of escape wavered somewhat as Devil Jin leaned down further to drag his tongue along the cuts in his chest, smearing bloody droplets across his skin.  When a fanged mouth clamped down around a hardened nipple, Hwoarang couldn't help but repress a shudder.  Jin had lost his humanity… why?  Because of the alcohol?  Or was it?  He glared up into the creature's eyes that now regarded him with a sadistic revelry.  "Why are you here?" he asked.

"That," the devil clucked, "is just as interesting a question as 'what am I?'."  He drew a breath, resting back on his haunches and pulled the injured Korean along with him.  He still held his un-injured arm and gripped Hwoarang's jaw to tilt his head up.  "Who, what, how, why; all these questions have answers, and you're smart enough to figure them out on your own, human," he snarled, looking Hwoarang up and down with a detached glee. 

"I should thank you," he continued, pulling Hwoarang against him.  "Jin… hates me.  Fights me.  He refuses to give up his body to me!  I only want to come out, to own this form and the power that belongs to it.  I only want what was promised to me when I was conceived."  He snarled, eyes narrowing to slits as his grip on Hwoarang's jaw tightened.  "You…" his body went rigid, muscles shifting as he twisted, moving inhumanly fast as he flung Hwoarang across the room.  "You weakened him so that I could come out," the creature barked, springing from the bed towards the Korean to pick him up from the floor.

Hwoarang had flown a good six feet and crashed against a painting on the wall.  The glass had shattered and he lay amidst a sea of broken shards.  His shoulder hurt where it was dislocated, and it was made more-so as he rolled over to try and stand.  With glass biting into his knees and hand, he began to climb to his feet, just as the demon grabbed hold of him and hauled him into the air.  The pain spread across his back and down his arm, his shoulder throbbing to overwhelm him.  He grit his teeth and took a wild swing, smiling with satisfaction when his fist connected with the brunette's face.

The act was repaid in kind as Devil Jin's head snapped forward, connecting with Hwoarang's face and slamming him back against the wall.

"I didn't do shit to Kazama," Hwoarang tried.  He was having his ass kicked.  It was time to try and talk reason.

"That callous ignorance!" Jin slammed Hwoarang into the wall.  "The fact that you don't know what you did makes this all the more delicious."  He raised Hwoarang into the air and pressed him into the drywall as he leaned forward to lick the blood that still ebbed from the cuts on the Korean's chest.

Hwoarang grit his teeth and turned his head away, bearing the pain as quietly as he could.  He grabbed at the hand that held him in place, trying to wrench it loose, but he didn't have the leverage to do anything except hang there and wait for a chance to escape.

"Jin?" he asked when the creature bit down onto his wound.  He was surprised at how badly it hurt.  He was losing… and the pain of it was worse than broken bones; the slow torture was the knowledge that it wasn't even Jin doing it.  He gasped; this was much worse.

"If I'm going to die, then I want Kazama to do it.  I don't fucking know you!  Let Kazama out, you fucking bastard!"  Hwoarang kicked outwards, nailing the devil in the stomach and knocking the air out of him.

The creature bowed forward, lowering Hwoarang as he tried to catch his breath.  The Korean pressed his advantage and ducked to the side and out of the way, throwing out another kick to the demon as he did.  The last hit brought a satisfying crack and the creature doubled over, its wings flaring out violently.

"H-Hwoarang?" the voice that came from the demon's lips was smaller, less menacing than the one that had been threatening moments before.

Hwoarang froze, standing back from the body before him, still not sure what was going on.  He took a tentative step closer, peering around to see Jin's face.  "Kazama?"

Jin peered up at him through raven-coloured bangs; his face was shaking with concentration.  "He's… getting stronger…"

Hwoarang regarded Jin with suspicion for a second, but realized what was really happening when he got closer to see those eyes.  They were dark, black pools; the same ones that belonged to the Kazama that he'd been after for the past few years.  "Damn, Kazama!  What the fuck are you doing?  Fight him!"  He got in closer, right in Jin's face.  "You're stronger!"

Giving anybody a pep talk was so far out of the realm of Hwoarang's expertise and he felt as if he'd used up all his material.  Then again…  He reached out to tilt Jin's face up to him, making the brunette look up into his brown eyes.  "If you let him take over again, I'll kick your ass so bad.  THAT is a promise, Kazama."

Jin's eyes began to roll up into his head as his body shook more violently.  He grit his teeth, trying hard to look Hwoarang in the eyes.

"You're stronger than him, Kazama," Hwoarang continued, saying whatever came to mind no matter how stupid it sounded to his ears.  "You've held him back all these years, man.  Don't let him take over now!  Fight it!"

Jin continued to struggle, and Hwoarang couldn't bear to hear himself talk anymore.  He leaned back from Jin and smacked the other man hard across the face with his good hand.  "For fuck sakes, snap out of it, Kazama!"

That seemed to stun Jin for a moment because his eyes cleared and he looked up into Hwoarang's face, seemingly aware of who was in front of him.  Then his features twisted again and his brow furrowed into a glare as those black pools began to swirl with lighting streaks.

Hwoarang smacked the brunette again and again.  He put more strength into each hit until he balled his fist and drove it across Jin's cheek, knocking the other man over.  He stood over Jin, looking down at the half-naked body of a man with black wings and tribal tattoos covering his body.  "Get up, Kazama!  Time for me to kick your ass!"  He reached down to grab Jin by one of his horns and haul him into the air.  The brunette looked at him with fierce, black eyes and swung out to crack the Korean across his jaw.  Hwoarang staggered back, rubbing his jaw and checking to see if any of his teeth had been knocked out.  "Kazama?" he asked, cautiously.

"Yes," Jin answered, wings quivering but his eyes black and void of Devil's influence.

Hwoarang let out a relieved breath.  "Um, nice horns?" he said, eyeing the two bony spirals that towered from his rival's forehead as the other man advanced on him.  Jin bared his teeth in a feral grin that sent a shiver up the Korean's spine, and took a step out to meet the redhead.

They stopped inches apart; Jin reached up to absently feel out his rival's injured shoulder.  "Hwoarang?" he asked, hesitating.

"What, Kazama?" the Korean asked, roughly grabbing his rival's neck as he saw a glimmer of light flash in those black eyes.

Jin's mouth curved up in the hint of a smile, his vision clearing again as Hwoarang's presence - his touch - helped him focus on keeping the Devil inside him weak.  "Thanks," he said, almost a whisper as he roughly pulled Hwoarang to meet him in a fierce kiss.

Hwoarang's lips responded quickly to the abuse Jin gave them, repaying the bites and bruises in kind.  He tried to pull Jin to him, but the Japanese man was one step ahead of him, wrapping his clawed fingers around his muscled frame, pulling him close until their naked chests were pressed together.  Hwoarang's cuts were pulled apart, his blood streaking their skin until Jin twisted their positions and firmly gripped his injured arm.

"Ow, fuck!  Yeah, thanks for that!" Hwoarang cursed as he was reminded of his injury.

Jin's eyes stayed dark and focused as he inspected the joint.  "You're welcome," he said, looking up at his rival as his hand snapped upwards, driving the redhead's joint back into place.

Hwoarang didn't get a chance to curse more as he was quickly flung backwards onto the bed.  It seemed to be a theme, but he didn't mind this time.  He quickly flipped himself over, heedless of the cuts on his body and only slightly favouring his newly fixed shoulder.  His wide, brown eyes were locked onto the form before him.  Jin had the body of a god, but the Devil's features made him look more like a demon.  Black, oily wings stretched out, flapped twice to lift the brunette into the air before propelling him onto the bed to crush Hwoarang under his weight.

Jin's horns dug into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss his rival again, claws trying to smooth over the Korean's body but only succeeding in cutting him up more.  He pulled back, bringing his hand up to see the blood glistening on the tip.  He looked regretfully at Hwoarang who shrugged off the new injuries and pulled the clawed hand down to his mouth.

Jin watched the display Hwoarang made of sticking his tongue out to lap at the droplets that glistened at the tip of his talons.  He felt a surge of desire shoot to his groin and for the first time he felt the tightness of his arousal trapped in his pants.  He pushed Hwoarang's hand away and leaned down again, lapping at the Korean's chest with renewed desire.  His rival's blood tasted coppery, very much like his own, but different somehow.  Perhaps it was the knowledge that it was the blood of his rival, and not his?  He tasted it again, licking a path from his stomach until he latched his mouth around a hardening nipple.

Hwoarang's chest arched up into his mouth the moment his teeth clamped down on that erect nub of flesh.  "Fuck, Kazama.  Seems like you know what you're doing," Hwoarang's tone wasn't angry or insulting, although it did hold a hint of taunt that was always in the Blood Talon's voice.  "Guess you're not the shy little virgin I pegged you for after all."

Jin pulled back sharply, anger crossing his features.  He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it.  Hwoarang should have been worried about the resolve that set itself into Jin's features, but he was still reveling in the wit of his statement.  He suddenly realized his mistake when Jin grabbed him roughly with his sharp claws, causing him to cry out.  "Guess I'm gonna have to prove you wrong about a lot of things, then," he said calmly, the same Jin that always said he didn't want to fight was now wrestling with his Korean rival.  His naked, Korean rival.  It was easier to pin a man down if you simply grabbed his erection and squeezed until he stopped moving, and as tough as Hwoarang emulated that he was, he stopped moving instantly and gave Jin his full attention the moment that clawed hand found his cock. 

"Fuck, Kazama!  I'm sorry!  God!" he laid back on the mattress, waiting for Jin to release his manhood so that he could continue to fight him some more.

Jin gave him a sly grin, keeping his tight grip on his rival's cock, only loosening a fraction to allow his hand to move up and down, slowly and roughly jerking Hwoarang to attention.  While his claws were sharp, the palms of his hands were soft and the Korean's frown broke into a feral grin and he relaxed, letting the man with the devil features continue to pleasure him.  "Hmmm, fuck yeah, Kazama.  You do this often, don't you?"  He threw an arm over his eyes and lost himself in the sensations, arching his hips off the bed every few.  It wasn't until Jin slowed his ministrations that Hwoarang raised his head, brow furrowed in annoyance.

"My turn," Jin said simply as he withdrew from the other fighter and he climbed higher on the bed, straddling his rival's chest and reaching into his leather pants to free his prick.

"What?  I don't-!" Hwoarang started to protest, but stopped once a sizeable cock was pressed to his mouth.  The soft skin of the member brushed his lips and he breathed in a heady scent of musk and sweat.  It was warm; he could feel the heat pouring off of Jin's body, the scent that was all-man washing over his senses.  He took another breath and looked up that long, muscular torso to give Jin a frown before parting his lips. 

He snuck his tongue out of his mouth, slowly at first, running it over the tip of the arousal to taste the droplets of precum that clung to the opening.  He wrinkled his nose at the salty, bitter taste.  He wouldn't have gone any further if it had been anybody else but Kazama.  This was different; it was a challenge, and he wouldn't lose.

The Korean closed his almond eyes as he opened his mouth wider.  Jin pressed his erection past the willing lips and Hwoarang fell into step with what he knew was expected.

He discovered that it was easier than he'd thought it would be.

Disturbingly so.

He kept his eyes closed and wrapped his lips tightly around the erection that was eagerly pushed into his mouth.  He was no stranger to receiving blowjobs and knew exactly what set him off, but didn't know if Jin liked the same.  He experimented; taking the flesh deeply into his mouth until he thought he'd gag and quickly pulled back.  So it was his first time giving head; there were other things that he liked besides being deep-throated.  He built up the suction in his mouth, being sure to keep his lips tightly sealed, and sucked Jin into his mouth again, this time stopping short of going down his throat.

He reached up to grab Jin's hips, steadying the other man's movements and taking control of the pace.  He pulled forward, drawing the raven-haired man in until his mouth was full and then pushed back to draw him out.  Everything was starting off slowly, but Jin should have been grateful that he was doing it at all.  His head moved in time with the pushing and pulling, his tongue swirling along the underside and playing with the gathering of flesh under the head.

He loved it when girls did that.  It was all coming back to him.  He flattened is tongue along the underside, rolling around the girth and bobbed his head more enthusiastically.  He always went wild when the girls nibbled on the underside, and slipped his cock from their mouth and just licked the sides, up and down like a sugar freak with a lollipop.  The heat of their mouth and the cold air when they left his dick glistening with their spit in the cool air… he wanted to do that for Jin.  Correction; he wanted to show Jin he was good at it.  Good at everything.  Better than him.

Never mind that the deep, heady aroma of Jin's arousal was overwhelming his senses and driving straight for his crotch.  The little thrusts that the other man drove into his mouth left him satisfied, and yet, were so erotic they made him want the brunette more.

It was just fucking hot.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd still be able to swing things so he could top again. 

Hwoarang decided to press his advantage and move his hands further back, squeezing the perfect globes of Jin's ass.  He sucked hard on the cock in his mouth and pulled that ass apart, inching his fingers inside.  It was so warm and his cock twitched against his navel, as if it was agreeing that it wanted to be pushed into the brunette again.

Jin chuckled above him, breathy and amused.  "Not bad," he pulled back and climbed down and between the redhead's legs.  "But don't think it'll change things," he grabbed the Korean's knees and spread them apart, the Tae Kwon Do training having made him flexible and eased the pain as Jin spread him open.  He only opened his mouth to protest when his knees were resting firmly against the mattress and Jin was reaching down to press a claw into his ass.

"The fuck you think you're doing, Kazama?"  He wriggled to try and get up, but Jin quickly reached out to hold his legs down again.  "Fine!  I'll let you fuck me, Kazama, but I'll be damned if you push that fucking talon inside me!"

"Huh?" Jin looked down at his hand and realized that he still had the demon's claws.  "Oops!"

"Yeah, I'll oops you, Kazama!  Let me fucking do it!"  Hwoarang angrily reached down his body, past his cock (that he would have preferred to play with) and found the puckered opening that shrunk away from his touch.  "Y'know, this really should be your asshole," he said, looking up at Jin as he brought his finger to his mouth to coat it in spit.

Jin didn't say a word; his dark eyes were mesmerized by the show that Hwoarang was putting on, his every complaint just making it more perfect.  He tightened his grip on his legs, trapped by his own will to hold him still and helpless as he watched Hwoarang push a spit-slicked finger into his own asshole.  His dark eyes watched the redhead move, heavy-lidded with hazy thoughts of desire.  In and out, in and out the Korean's finger inched deeper and deeper with each stroke.  The puckering skin folded around it as it moved and resisted only slightly as a second finger was pushed in next to the first.  The pace of his hand never faltered as Jin climbed off the bed and began to discard his remaining clothes.

Hwoarang kept his legs spread as best he could, the act more difficult without his rival's help, but he managed.  His pucker clenched around his fingers, resisting the invasion wholeheartedly and he grunted in annoyance.  The friction was lovely, but dry fucking wasn't an option.  He brought his fingers to his mouth again, deciding at the last minute to spit on them without putting them in his mouth.  He slid his hand down his body again, bringing it to his entrance and pushing the spit-slicked digits inside.  The cold saliva warmed quickly and it was easier to push in deeper to the second knuckle.

The bed shifted as Jin climbed back on, taking his place between Hwoarang's legs and spreading them apart with his clawed hands.  The remainder of his clothing was in a pile on the floor and he wore only a smile and the charcoal wings that still stood proud from his back.  "Ready?" his voice was deep and husky, proof of his own readiness hung between his legs, its weight keeping it from springing against his abdomen.

The Korean moaned as he saw Jin's manhood; he was going to be hurting afterwards.  "Gimme a sec, Kazama!  Fuck!"  he pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to lubricate them again.

A lecherous look crossed Jin's features and he spread the redhead's legs further apart and leaned closer to the loosening opening.  He puckered his lips and slowly released a glob of spit, letting gravity pull it from his lips into Hwoarang's asshole.  A long tendril of saliva trailed between Jin's mouth and the entrance, becoming longer as he pulled away.

Hwoarang shuddered, quickly moving his hand back to prepare himself faster.  "God, Kazama," he breathed, suddenly finding his pace and easily sliding both fingers in as far as he could.  "Just… let me do this…" his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand worked at an increasing pace, pushing a third finger in before his cock twitched its approval.

He pulled his fingers out, the ring of muscle easing closed behind them but still pliant and ready to be stretched by something far larger.  "Fuck, Kazama," he breathed, letting his head fall back against the mattress.  "I'll bet you just can't wait to be on top for once."

Jin rolled his eyes, a broad grin spreading across his face as he spread his own saliva across his cock.

"You know I'll be the one fucking you after this, right?"  Hwoarang said, holding his legs apart as Jin pressed the tip of his cock against his pucker. 

"Hwoarang?" Jin asked, pausing on the threshold of his rival's entrance.

"What?"

"Shut up," he said, snapping his hips forward and burying the entirety of his cock in the Korean's body.

Hwoarang grunted through clenched teeth, the sudden invasion, while not entirely unpleasant, was still a shock.  "God DAMN, you asshole!"

Jin looked down at his rival with dark, wide eyes.  "Are you… okay?"

"Fuck, how'd you like to have a cock jammed in YOUR ass?" he balled his fists in the sheets beneath him.

"I have," Jin said, starting to pull out.  "If you can't take it…"

"Ohhh no!" Hwoarang said, glaring up at the man above him.  "I can take it.  Just relax!"

Jin smirked and stopped his withdrawal.  "You are the one who should be relaxing," he said, resisting the instinct to thrust into that tight heat again.  It was torture, standing on the precipice of something so divine and overwhelmingly tempting.  It took all of his resolve to keep from snapping his hips forward and driving into the body beneath him again and again.  "Hwoarang… I've gotta…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Kazama," the redhead said, that same taunt in his voice.  "I'm ready, so fuck me, but if you think I'm going to lie back and think of England, you've got another thing coming."  He thrust up against his rival, allowing the other man to sink deep into his body until his hips were pressed firmly against the backs of his thighs.

Jin's head bowed over Hwoarang, his eyes closed and a look of concentration on his face.  His once impressive horns seemed to have receded, since Hwoarang noticed, with some relief that he wasn't at risk of losing an eye in the act.  The black wings shifted above them, spreading out and leaving a few inky feathers to fall about the pair as they began to move together.

Hwoarang held onto Jin's arms, his legs comfortably flung over either of his rival's shoulders and he was free to enjoy the ride.  It wasn't the first time he'd allowed himself to be taken, although he'd be the first to admit that he never thought he'd ever spread his legs for Jin Kazama.  He didn't have much maneuverability in the position he was in, so he contented himself with clenching his ass around Jin's thick cock.  "Looks like you're gonna come first, Kazama," he chuckled, rolling his hips against the force of Jin's thrusts.

A grunt and gasp was the only noise that escaped the usually stoic man.  He wordlessly shifted his weight, bracing himself on one arm and reached down to palm the Korean's manhood.  He continued his thrusting, never breaking the rhythm that he'd established as he began jerking the swollen cock in time to his movements.

"Oh, fuck!" Hwoarang moaned, drawing out the vowels as he braced his now-free leg on the bed to meet the thrusts of the man above him.  He was quickly losing control of his resolve to last.  "D-don't think," he breathed.  "don't… oh god…" he couldn't finish his taunt.  His stunning red hair pooled on the bed as his head fell back and he stared wildly up at his rival above him.  Jin Kazama was above him, fucking him, and doing a _damn_ fine job of it too!

"Looks like," Jin panted, his face red from the effort.  "You're the one that can't think… oh, fuck!  Jesus, do that again!"  He ground down against the man beneath him and Hwoarang was only to happy to squeeze his ass around Jin's prick once more.  Both men were quickly approaching release.  Each moaning obscenities under their breath as their fast-paced fucking continued.  Each movement against the other was magnified; each breathy curse or endearment rang clear in their ears amidst a chorus of wordless moans and gasps.

It was only when Hwoarang went to angrily scratch down Jin's back that he discovered the wings were gone.  Receded back into the Japanese man or vanished into thin air, it didn't matter.  The only thing left was a dusting of charcoal-black feathers draped across the brunette's shoulders that sent a spark through Hwoarang's belly.  "Jin your-" he started, pulling back a fistful of feathers.  Upon hearing his name Jin leaned forward to capture the Korean's lips with his own, wetly kissing him with a wanton tongue. 

Hwoarang was lost.  Completely and utterly lost, and he felt a fire burning deep within his groin that rippled outwards with shocking strength.  He breathed heavily against Jin's mouth, the feathers forgotten as his cries became short and incoherent.  Warning and yet accentuating the mindless state he was in.  "Ji-Ji-Jin!" the name was accompanied by a loud, hissing cry that Hwoarang vocalized signaling his release as Jin continued driving deep into his constricting entrance.  The brunette continued to push until his own orgasm finally released itself through his frame and he choked out Hwoarang's name as his body shuddered violently.  His cries were less vocal than the man beneath him, but his exhaustion was clearly visible as he lowered himself onto the redhead and rested heavily against him.

Hwoarang let the bulk of his rival fall upon him, the afterglow of his release still holding him in a haze of bliss.  It wasn't until he had trouble breathing that he finally heaved the other man off of him.  Jin rolled wearily onto his side, throwing an arm across his forehead and he let out an exhausted, but satisfied sigh.  Hwoarang did the same before the silence in the room got to be too loud for his ears.  He had to fill it with something.  "Well, Kazama, that wasn't half bad!"

Jin's eyebrow quirked up and he rolled his head to look at the other man.

"Not as good as I was," the redhead continued, ignoring the tired glare he was getting.  "Of course, that doesn't mean that I wouldn't let you do it again…"

He was silenced as Jin pressed a hand against his mouth; effectively stopping the Korean's flapping lips.  "Hwoarang," he started, his voice calm and commanding except for the exhaustion in his words.  "I know it's difficult for you to stop talking, but shut up."  His hand slid from those lips and fell heavily against his forehead again, he shifted slightly, trying to become more comfortable and closed his eyes.

"That's right," Hwoarang said, yawning loudly.  "Better get your beauty sleep, cuz I'm still going to kick your ass tomorrow…" he climbed off the bed and picked the blankets up from the end of the bed where they'd kicked them.  He threw them haphazardly across Jin's body and walked through a cluster of black feathers on the floor on his way to the bathroom.  "Y'know that demon thing has fucking sharp claws, right?" he yelled as he peered into the mirror, inspecting the scratches on his body.  Jin didn't answer and Hwoarang cursed as he began to wash out his wounds.  It would be that demon's fault if he lost the tournament.  He was injured even before his first fight, not to mention the soreness in his ass.

In the mirror he could see the reflection of the damaged wall where that beast's horns had gone through the plaster and cinder block.  A sensible man might have realized just how close he'd come to death, see the hole in the wall, the damage an involuntary move had caused and thank god that it hadn't been his body that had taken the hit.  A sensible, smart man might stop pursuing Jin Kazama altogether, forget his pride and leave the hotel room that very moment before the devil inside the quiet Japanese was triggered again.  A sensible, smart, sane man wouldn't simply finish bandaging his wounds and return to crawl into bed next to Jin, but Hwoarang had never been accused of being such things and he wouldn't give up on Jin so easily.  He'd win the tournament, but then… he'd want more.  A victory over the other man was one thing, but there was a new desire burning inside him.  He'd laugh if someone told him it was love, but there was some… connection that he didn't understand.  Whatever it was, he wouldn't let the other man just walk away after this was done.  He settled down into bed and tugged a corner of the blankets over his aching frame.  Jin was hogging most of them, but he managed to tug enough out for himself before rolling away and pressing his back against the sleeping man behind him.  His first fight was in a few hours and he just knew that whoever it was, it'd be rough, but he'd enjoy making Jin pay for it afterwards.

+++

Lee Chaolan leaned back in his executive chair, the soft leather barely making a sound as it relented under his muscular body.  "My, my," he hummed to himself.  He stretched languidly in his seat before standing and leisurely making his way to the bar to re-fill his brandy glass.  His silver hair took on an ethereal glow in the dim lighting of the wall of monitors and his dark, almond eyes sparkled with interest as he looked up from the drink to one monitor in particular.  A voice command enlarged the image until it spanned all the screens on the wall.  "Dear brother," he said, swirling the glass before inhaling the strong aroma.  "It would seem that you are all that stands between me and the Zaibatsu…" he took a small sip as he settled down into his chair once more, his velvet trousers sliding against the leather and he sunk deep into the plush cushioning.  His dark eyes peered up at the image of his brother, Kazuya Mishima, as he paced within his assigned hotel room.  The dark man, who was only older than Lee by a year or two at most, was like a caged animal pacing his room.  He was clearly displeased at the surprise meeting him when he arrived at the tournament, and the Silver Devil was happy to see that the extra money he'd paid to ensure that Kazuya made it to his room was well worth it.  He'd gone all out for his brother, setting him up in one of the penthouse suites (not that he'd done it for the other man's comfort).  While the irritation etched across the Japanese man's face was priceless to the Chinese fighter, it was only prudent planning that had placed him in one of the largest rooms in the hotel.

Lee swirled the brandy in his glass, lightly touching the rim to his lips and tilting it back to taste the heady but sweet almond flavour.  The drink warmed his throat as it filled his mouth and washed down into his belly.  He ran a hand down his form, stopping to rub his open palm against the stiffening arousal that was trapped in his designer pants.  His brother had no idea what was coming, and the only thing more satisfying than defeating him in battle, Lee had decided, was to watch the older man in an all-out battle against one of the more deadly fighters to arrive for the tournament, and losing the battle, of course.  The Silver Devil would have liked to be the one standing over Kazuya's immobile body, but he'd settle for watching it instead… it would allow him to fully enjoy it.

The deal he'd struck with the fighter, Feng Wei, had been more difficult to orchestrate than the other arrangements he'd made for the tournament.  His quick thinking and silver tongue had saved his life during the meeting and bought his brother's humiliation at the same time.

Lee stretched his legs and propped his feet up on the mahogany desk in front of him while leaning back into the leather seat in relaxed anticipation.  After he filmed his brother's defeat, he'd take the Mishima Zaibatsu for his own.  With the money and power that brought, he'd arrange many more chance encounters between the fighters that returned to the King of Iron Fist Tournament time after time.  His voyeuristic tendencies had always been something of a difficulty to indulge fully, but with a venue like the tournament and the deed to the hotel in his personal safe, he'd found the perfect way to satisfy his fetish. 

A light shone on the desk console and he smirked; Kazuya would have to wait.  He gave another command and the full-screen image shrunk to one monitor and Lee focused his attention on another.  The next show was about to start in his perverted little game.  He maximized the image across the screens and watched the pieces fall into place; the next couple forced together against their will yet, with some minor arrangements, eventually succumbing to their more base desires and putting on a private, adult show for the Silver Devil.  With so many attractive and interesting targets, Lee Chaolan was beginning to see that money really could buy happiness,


End file.
